Fool's Dragon
by Fiona Fargazer
Summary: After the initial sorrow of Gaston's death LeFou realizes that he has no way to get free food and beer so he goes to his father's house. However, his reception is not a warm one with his brother now turning into a dragon every time he gets angry. You miss a little and you miss a lot in some families.
1. Chapter 1

JMJ

CHAPITRE UN:

The foam frothing from the freshly poured mug seemed for just a moment to resemble some foul beast, and the barmaid blinked in alarm. It was her own fancy, of course, but the only explanation she could give for the oddity of staring intently at foam were the exciting stories of beasts and haunted castles revolving in the tavern of late. Stories revolved as they would with drunkards and story tellers alike, but the only thing that was upsetting about it recently was that these tales had some truth to them. She had come to grieve the town hero too, for what girl had not loved Gaston? Save perhaps the odd girl from out of town.

Both of these famous people were soon named by a man among the company to whom she served the new drink.

"—two celebrities from our little town!" the man said. "Little Belle who has married Prince Adam upon his timely return to the castle, and Gaston, may he rest in peace, who slayed the beast and freed the castle and the land from its oppressive grip!"

"We always knew our boy Gaston would be famous one day," agreed the bar tender.

"Ain't it the truth!?"

"Long life to the princess and long honor to Gaston's memory!"

Everyone agreed with a shout and drank from their mugs, yet one hesitated and said, "Too bad he had to die for it."

"Heroes have to die to become heroes, though," said the barkeeper in a practical sort of way.

" _C'est la vie_!" agreed the one who had made the toast.

" _Si_!"

The oldest member of the group pounded the table with his fist.

"We were all there that night," he said. "The whole castle was alive with that terrible curse. If it had not been for Gaston the prince would have never been able to return!"

"It must have been a battle ferocious for both Gaston and the beast to fall together to their demise," said the sadder-toned man.

The old man's son added, "The only witness from what I know was the princess herself, but I haven't heard what she had to say about it."

"Well, it was probably too bloody and wild an event to speak of," someone advised curtly. "Even if she was as tough as she acted."

"Ah! She probably loved it, knowing her!" exclaimed a rather goofy little voice as a strange little form leapt up onto the closest available stool to the company up at the bar. LeFou laughed. " _Pfft_! The only legendary beast ever seen in our provincial town against the likes of the strongest, smartest, fastest—well, you know! Gaston! It must have been like Shakespeare wrote about King Arthur versus Achilles!"

The moodier fellow gave LeFou a strange look, but most of the others laughed.

"How 'bout another toast!" LeFou went on pounding his fist merrily upon the counter. "Hey, barkeeper, I wanna drink."

"You never paid for the last one," the barkeeper pointed out.

LeFou grinned. "Hey, C'mon, Florent! They're on the house."

"We've been over this." The barkeeper rolled his eyes. "I can't give every Tom, Dick, and Stanley who used to know Gaston a free beer. I'd be out of business."

"But I didn't just _know_ him!" LeFou complained. "I was Gaston's right-hand man!" His thrust his hands to his chest dramatically.

"Just get a job like everyone else," muttered the barkeeper, eyes half-closed as he wiped out an empty mug. "I'd hire you here, but besides the fact that you're already known for having a terrible inability to restrain yourself from getting drunk on everyone else's beer, I don't have room right now. Go find Monsieur Humbert. He's respectable."

" _Right-hand man_!" LeFou emphasized all the further.

"More like right hand spaniel," laughed the man who had made the original toast.

"Right," agreed another man after a slug. "He told me himself that he didn't need a dog when he already had LeFou to go and retrieve his kills, and he was far more dependable." He turned to the barkeeper while his audience laughed. "More beer for me by the way!"

LeFou made a face, but ignoring the jeerers he pressed the barkeeper once more. "Just one beer?"

"Not unless someone's gunna pay for it," the barkeeper retorted.

No one volunteered, and LeFou got the hint. Now that Gaston was gone, he was not wanted around here. The others now had a chance to show just envious they had been that Gaston had favored LeFou's company above anyone else's. If they wanted to be petty, he would let them. Scooting from his stool rather disgruntled, LeFou made for the swinging doors, but just before he exited with his hand still on one door he paused once more to say, "I _was_ Gaston's right-hand man, you know!"

The bar goers only laughed the more.

He could not tell whether the jeering was aimed at him or not, but he had already moved on from the tavern in his mind. Crossing the town square, he eyed the passing of a farmer bringing a pair of pigs to the butchers, and he tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach for ham.

He had lived off the fame of Gaston for so long and had lived so easily that now that he had nothing and did nothing he realized he was poverty stricken. How long would it take before his new coat became rags and made him look the part?

Sure, he had been given things to eat and drink in a sort of consolation after the news of Gaston's death.

There was many a hand which let him have a meal and a few drinks in exchange for stories of the haunted castle and the great fight between Gaston and the beast, which he concocted from the facts he did know and witness with what just came on as embellishment.

Monsieur du Point, father of the triplets Lisette, Laurette, and Lilou, invited him to dinner a few times. Du Point respected his position at Gaston's right-hand even if he was not the only one invited, and the girls practically used him as their handkerchief the way they cried upon him. Although soaked and quite miserable himself he enjoyed the attention and the food. Except that Laurette at the last dinner started to blame LeFou and the other guys for not sticking it out at the castle, but her parents quickly pointed out that they could not be blamed for that.

Before that he had been a sort of guest of honor at Gaston's funeral as he made the speech and sat next to Gaston's own mother; though the misery he had felt there had not made for a good appetite. He had drank an awful lot that evening, feeling the full weight of the death, missing his … well, friend he supposed he should call him, but somehow that was not quite the right word. He would almost have called Gaston his master, but he did not like to think of himself as a servant. Chief, maybe. Yeah! That sounded good. The death of his chief nearly broke his heart, but now?

He seated himself on the edge of the fountain in the center of the square. Turning around he stared miserably into the water, and it annoyed him to see that sulky face of his staring back at him. A person should not look so miserable. It was not fair.

"Let's face it," LeFou muttered leaning his elbows on his knees and slumping his chin into his hands. "I'm nothing without Gaston."

He turned back around and sighed, but he did not feel the influence of uncertainty for long, for suddenly like a thunderbolt an idea flashed into his mind.

"I know!" he exclaimed. "I'll go see Pop! He's respectable. He won't send me away. He's family!"

There was nothing left for him here in this little town without Gaston, and he hated being constantly reminded of his untimely death. Thus taking what little he had into a satchel on a stick like a boy running off for the circus, he took his leave of the little town with a bright smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Once he started down the road the thought of looking back did not even cross his mind in the usual sanguine manner that possessed his spirit.

It did not take more than a day or so to reach the city, especially when hitching a ride on the back of a wagon. He was so small that no one noticed him; though the driver did notice that his lunch had gone missing. Small though LeFou was he had a downright gluttonous appetite most of the time.

The bustling crowds and grand city buildings distracted him with each new sight and sound. It was no Paris or Marseille, but it was a descent sized town far bigger than the village he was from. He might have liked city life had it not been for the fact that it was far more difficult to get away with doing nothing here than in a fruitful countryside village unless you were a highly independently wealthy individual. Thus the crowds acted the part. They were very busy and few seemed to know anyone else save at their destinations. There certainly was no time for singing at any rate.

In a side street away from the excitement, he came to a small home crammed in between two others. It was not much to look at, but it certainly was not squalid.

Without a thought, he strolled up to the door with his little pack on a stick adjusted over his shoulder, but just before he knocked his cheery spirits were halted by the sound of a bang from the inside. With a quizzical frown he paused, but after a second bang, LeFou merely knocked anyway. The only answer he received was a sort of snarling sound and a third bang as something breaking. Pressing his ear to the door he listened to some indecipherable shouting as well and some thumping and thrashing, and shattering glass.

Hesitating with fingers twiddling at his sides, LeFou simply took hold of the knob and began to open it a crack for a peak, but before he could see anything, the door was snatched violently away from him and hit him right in the nose.

"Ouch!"

"Guillaume!"

As LeFou held his throbbing nose, the young woman spoke again uneasily from now a mere crack in the door so that one could barely see her eyes staring out.

"Uh, Guillaume. What are you _doing_ here?"

"I live here!" said LeFou.

"No, you don't."

Another crash sounded behind her.

"Well, Pop lives here," said LeFou, and he paused. "It sounds like a bear in there? Is Pop okay?"

"Don't!" cried the woman. "You can't come in!"

"Claudie!" LeFou complained.

She slammed the door shut. More bangs and growls followed inside and the voice of Claudie crying, "No! Wait!"

With caution now, LeFou crept up to the window to see for himself what was going on.

Climbing onto a pile of wood to reach the pane, he looked, and instantly he wished he had not. For what he saw stared right back at him, and it was not a friendly stare by any means. Huge, piercing, furious, they were the eyes of something far worse and unnatural than a bear; it red scaly skin reflected in those eyes to make it seem as though they were downright glowing with hatred. The beast from the castle could not have looked more daunting, and only a second later it reached out a clawed paw bigger than LeFou's head.

The window was no barrier.

Dropping his stick, LeFou let out a scream and immediately swung around to run the other way, but he did not get far. The claws clamped right over his head with the grip of a machine. He only had time for an awkward squeak before he was snatched through the window and into the house. He felt that he would be swallowed up in a second, but he was thrown away from the gnashing teeth and into unconsciousness.

#

First there was a throbbing sensation and a pain in the back of his head and in his spine. The sound of dripping water came next, and as LeFou felt the cloth upon his head he began to moan bitterly. He was lying in between two arms of an armchair. One arm his head rested upon like a pillow, but he was not quite short enough to keep his outstretched legs from being pushed upward by the opposite arm. He pulled his knees into himself and his head stooped further down along the side of the first arm.

"Guillaume? Are you feeling okay?"

Hearing a familiar voice and feeling consciousness coming fully upon him, he let out another more purposeful moan to display his pain to call pity upon him. Though pain was not exactly a thing that had ever hampered him in the past, he wallowed in it now with a nurse above his head and confusion swirling up inside his brain and none of the guys to see. In full melodrama he flung one hand upon the wet cloth on his forehead and his other hand over his stomach and curled his legs in tighter.

"What happened?" he croaked.

Claudie took the cloth from LeFou's head out from under his hand. She was a short, round, and rather odd-looking little woman, but not nearly as short, round, and silly looking as LeFou was. Her demeanor was a lot more respectable too.

" _Sh-sh-sh …_ " she said softly. "Calm down, Guillaume."

"Oh," LeFou groaned, turning around then onto his stomach to lean over the side of the arm. He rubbed his head hard. "I had this weird dream. There was this dragon and—" He pushed up on the arm into something like a sitting position.

The whole downstairs was in tatters. The chair itself looked as if it had been tousled up a little before someone had put it upright. A table was upside down. The bowl Claudie was using to wet her rag was on top of a trunk on its side. The walls were scarred; a small etching in a frame was titled nearly diamond shaped and the glass was cracked. The rug on the floor was a bit ragged but like the chair had been pushed back into position at the hearth.

"Claudie?" he said throwing his head around him in alarm. "Was there really a dragon in here?"

Claudie put her hands on her hips and frowned. "What makes you ask something like that?"


	2. Chapter 2

JMJ

CHAPITRE DUEX

"The whole house is wrecked," said LeFou looking around again and seating himself more comfortably in the chair. "I mean _some_ thing must have happened here." He threw his hands out in case Claudie missed something. "Where's Pop? Where's Timo—?"

Exasperated and as flustered as an old hen Claudie interrupted, "I bet you're hungry!"

She grinned widely.

"Yeah, I guess, but—"

"You've come a long way!" Claudie interrupted again, hurrying to the kitchen. "The wind's been whipping across the landscape against you all day! Something to drink? Thirsty?"

When LeFou tried to follow she shoved him back into the chair again. LeFou crossed his arms and slumped back into the seat with annoyance, but he cheered up the moment food appeared before him. He was famished. Eyes lit up merrier still to see the stein of beer that would have been enough to distract him with or without the meal.

LeFou grabbed for these things ravenously, and Claudie wiped her brow with relief.

The sound of raised voices came from upstairs in the narrow little house, but although LeFou paused after halfway through his mug, he did not move as he asked about it. Claudie refused to answer anyway, and LeFou ate every last morsel of the leftover stew and drank every last drop of beer before he brought it up a second time.

" _IS_ that Pop and Timothée upstairs?" he asked.

"Who else would be up there?" Claudie demanded.

LeFou shrugged. "That monster that trashed the whole—?"

"How 'bout seconds!" gasped Claudie.

He held up his finger. "I—"

Claudie snatched his dishes, and although she did not fill another stein of beer she refilled his bowl with stew and shoved the bowl so hard into his hands that LeFou almost ended in spilling it on his lap.

"Eat!"

"Awright! Awright!" LeFou snapped, and again he ate the stew to the bottom of the bowl.

"Thirds?" asked Claudie.

"Uh …"

He found himself with yet another bowl, which he ate to the bottom though much slower.

"So," he tried again, "now are you gunna—?"

"I'll get you some more."

Taking his bowl Claudie went to the kitchen the last time.

"But Claudie! I'm not hungry anymore!" LeFou gasped leaping from his seat. "I'm stuffed! He's _my_ Pop too! I wanna talk to him. Is he sick or something?"

At that moment, a door opened upstairs, and both Claudie and LeFou jumped and looked up to see Timothée. There was some family resemblance if one looked passed the differences in height and the exaggerated pink nose and huge eyes in the one known as LeFou. As Timothée reached the last step LeFou bounded up cheerfully.

"Hey! Timothée! A guy of actual sanity 'round this joint!" he exclaimed with outstretched arms for a hug. "How's it going?"

Claudie cringed, but LeFou didn't notice.

"You'll tell me what's going on, right?" LeFou asked. "Claudie's acting really secretive and all and—"

Timothée did not look pleased to see his brother by any means, but LeFou took less notice in this than he did to Claudie's cringing until the boy slammed the door behind him on his way outside.

LeFou frowned crossing his arms. "Okay … What's eatin' him up?"

Claudie smacked her forehead.

"The dragon." This gruff voice came from behind.

As LeFou turned around he was taken aback at how closely his father was behind him, and Monsieur Armand Humbert was certainly a presence to reckon with. He was not necessarily very tall but he was thick-boned, broad-shouldered, and stern-faced. The fact that he was missing an arm only enhanced his appearance rather than made him appear weaker, but not just anyone can survive being trampled by a bull even if it hinders one's blacksmithing abilities and causes one to move to the city for a different line of work — thus, the departure of the Humbert family from the little town. LeFou had been too small and too lazy to take his father's place and Timothée had been too young.

"Pop!" exclaimed LeFou with about the same cheer with which he had greeted his brother. "Hi!" But before he could embrace him he shifted uneasily. "Wait. You mean there really was a dragon here?"

"Several times now," said M. Humbert.

LeFou's mouth dropped, and he closed it again. "Why isn't the whole house in a heap of splinters?" He paused again. "Where's your gun? Will it be back?"

"Probably?" said Claudie darkly.

"We gotta do something?" exclaimed LeFou not understanding why they had not done something sooner. "I knew I saw that dragon! I knew it threw me against the wall! Did that castle curse just move somewhere else? Why in our house?! We gotta get help!"

He darted for the door and lunged for the handle to yank it open, but the commanding " _Arrêts_!" from his father stayed his hand.

"Who will believe you?" demanded M. Humbert.

LeFou hesitated as he stared out at the empty street. Everything looked so normal. The few people outside were casual and about their business pushing a cart or cleaning a window. A stray cat pouncing on something behind a barrel was about the most exciting part of the scene, and it probably was not even a stray.

His father was right.

A faint image of a winter's night at a familiar tavern came to mind too and a man thrown pitilessly and mockingly out the door on his face for exclaiming such things as LeFou had been prepared to go out to shout about to the whole city. He bit his lip and felt just a tinge of guilt, but he had been drunk at the time of the actual occurrence. This was not to mention the fact that he was also stuck beneath a chair even if he did give his full support to the plot about using the old man for heinous blackmail schemes directly afterwards.

Never mind.

He had more pressing matters at hand.

Blinking wide-eyed he turned around back into the house.

"Then what are we gunna do?"

"We don't know yet," said Claudie.

"Do we have a gun?" asked LeFou shivering.

"We aren't going to shoot it," said M. Humbert.

"Why not?"

"Because the dragon is your brother."

Unsure whether or not he had heard correctly, LeFou wrinkled his nose and raised an exaggerated brow. "Say what?"

"It's true," said Claudie.

LeFou forced a laugh. "Funny! Great joke!"

The lowering frowns of father and sister proved otherwise.

"But—" LeFou started to say.

"For about a week now this has happened," said M. Humbert.

"What? Like on a full moon?" asked LeFou exasperatedly.

"No, it's been a week not months, and it's only when he gets angry," said Claudie.

"Angry?" LeFou demanded. "I don't remember Timothée getting angry before."

"Everyone gets angry, Guillaume," said Claudie crossing her arms, "and he has more reason than most people now to get angry. You know. His wedding with Celeste is only a few weeks away, and now this happens."

LeFou gasped. "HE'S GETTING MARRIED?!" he cried in utter shock. "Who's Celeste?"

Claudie put her hands on her hips thoroughly annoyed, but their father did not look surprised.

"You didn't receive the invitation?" asked M. Humbert calmly, but he already knew the answer.

"Uh …"

Claudie sighed.

After an uneasy pause, LeFou flicked a chunk of plaster from his sleeve.

"Well, I see what you mean though," he said sheepishly. "I mean Timothée can't exactly tell the girl that he's a dragon now can he?" He grinned, but the glare of his father had him back in the appropriate mood.

He fidgeted a little and twiddled his fingers.

"Oh," moaned Claudie. "Why did you have to come home _now_? Of all times."

"Does she know?" asked LeFou.

M. Humbert put his hand behind LeFou's shoulder and led him away. "No, she doesn't, but I warn you right now that if you're planning on staying a while you must try not to make Timothée upset in anyway."

"Okay, I'll try, but—"

"I mean it, Guillaume."

LeFou nodded rigorously up at that very stern face.

"Don't let your mouth run away with you when he's around."

LeFou shook his head.

"Don't speak of Celeste."

Again LeFou shook his head.

"I forbid you to mention the dragon."

LeFou nodded.

"And don't say anything about your escapades with Gaston."

"Why not?" LeFou demanded.

"Just don't," muttered M Humbert.

"But—!"

"Don't!" snapped Claudie.

Clenching his fists in frustration and renewed grief LeFou tried to explain. "But Gaston is—!"

"And you have to try and help," Claudie begged. "Timothée can't go to work in his condition, and if you're going to be here you can't just sit on your lazy behind and stuff your gluttonous little belly that won't even hold up against the buttons of a waistcoat we bought you for Christmas only a year—!" She sighed looking apologetic for the rant, but she was soon distracted by a new thought as she paused to squint at her brother warily. "Why … why _are_ you here?"

"Uh … well …" muttered LeFou who had been rubbing his stomach self-consciously until this point at which he looked up at Claudie nervously.

Perhaps now was not the best time to bring up the fact that he had just come to get some support for himself just as Claudie was implying.

"Never mind that now," said M. Humbert. "Right now I want this place more respectable."

"What about Timothée?" asked LeFou.

"He'll be back," said his father.

Claudie handed him a broom.

"What? But sweeping's a girl's job!" LeFou complained.

"Embrace the broom, Guillaume," commanded M. Humbert.

"Yes, Pop," grumbled LeFou.

#

"Are you stirring that soup?" asked Claudie of LeFou.

Leaning over on his stool rather grumpy and with an enormous pout, he leered back at his younger sister, allowed to order him about as if she thought she was his mother. He already was holding the ladle in the steaming cauldron of a pot over the stove, and he was supposed to be keeping an eye on its bubbling contents.

"Aww, Claudie," LeFou complained dropping the ladle into the pot. "Cooking's a girl's job!"

"What about at the tavern?" said Claudie with a shrug. She was just setting down a loaf of bread on the kitchen table and began to cut into slices. "Or the famous cooks of Paris?"

"That's different," LeFou said. "That's their job."

"Well, if you want to eat, then this is your job," Claudie retorted. "Until you find a job of your own you're just going to have to help with the housework. You can't exactly take over Timothée's job.

"Why?" demanded LeFou. "What's he do?"

"He works as a clerk counting figures."

"Oh," said LeFou with distaste.

"Well, it's far better than what poor father had to do before Timothée was old enough," Claudie remarked. "We never would have been able to keep this house, even with Papa and me working so hard, if it had not been for Uncle Jérémie's kindness. It was he who helped Timothée get his job, not to mention the other generous presents of large sums of money for three years in a row." She paused. "Maybe you can get a job at Uncle's friend's shop. I think I may have seen that they needed some help there." 

LeFou moaned.

"Keep stirring that soup."

After a heavy and mournful sigh LeFou did as bidden.

Having finished slicing the bread, Claudie began to set the table, and it was just at that moment that the door opened and Timothée appeared.

"Papa!" called Claudie up the stairs. "Timothée's home."

LeFou turned to Timothée with alarm as he came into the kitchen. He greeted Claudie in a normal enough fashion though a little tired, and although he glanced at LeFou he did not say anything to him as he sat down at the table.

"Uh … Hey, there, Timothée," said LeFou with a little wave. He threw off the apron he had been wearing and hopped off his stool with a nervous smile. "Are you feeling be—"

With eyes frantic Claudie made a cutting motion over her throat as indication that LeFou stop.

Timothée sighed. "Yes, I'm feeling better, and Claudie stop doing that."

Claudie slumped.

As their father appeared each took their seat with their father at the head. They were just bowing their heads for grace however when Timothée staring at LeFou a moment asked, "Why are you here, Guillaume? Why aren't you back in the village?"

"Are you sure you want to discuss this now, Timothée?" warned his father.

"I just want to know," said Timothée. "It'll drive me crazy if I don't know."

"Uh, well … because I wanted to see my family again," said LeFou with a grin.

Claudie closed her eyes.

"Claudie, that's not helping," grumbled M. Humbert.

"Well … and Gaston's dead," said LeFou lowering his eyes to the table.

"Dead?" asked Timothée.

Claudie gasped. "How?"

"He saved the whole land around!" exclaimed LeFou. "All of France! Practically the whole world for all we know. There really was a beast in the woods in that castle!"

"But what about the prince's return?" demanded Claudie. "We thought—"

"They did say something about someone getting killed," said Timothée.

"Gaston died a hero killing it for us all!" exclaimed LeFou putting a hand dramatically to his chest, and he stood up upon the book on his chair. "That should make up for any misgivings you guys ever had. He died a hero! The beast had this girl under his spell and everything!" He was quite animated by this point as he expounded upon his tale. "The whole place was haunted! The village was no match for that castle! We all went out with him, and I'm not calling anyone else a coward, but no one's brave like Gaston! You know! Nothing scared him. Not even an angry stove or a laughing clock! He found the beast in some dark room, and with only a bow and a knife he came at it full force! The fight took them through the halls, and ballrooms, right through to the roof! Nothing like it! Anywhere! And through pouring rain and dripping sweat and blood Gaston make the final strike in the neck of that beast and he slayed the beast! At the same moment as he striked, though the beast had one last swipe at him!" He put his hand over his heart again, and this time wiped away a passionate tear from his eye. "No one fights to the death like Gaston! Long live his memory!"

"And may the souls of all the faithfully departed rest in peace. Amen," muttered Claudie crossing herself with eyes wide upon her bowl of soup.

LeFou shrugged. "Isn't that martyrdom, dying a hero and all?"

The family was not sure what was truth and what was fact, but they had heard enough through rumors that something of a strange nature had happened before the prince's return. Some said that a beast of unknown species had taken over the castle but as for haunting and dramatic duels to the death, they could not be sure. They would not have believed it at all had it not been for their own unnatural circumstances, and as for those unnatural circumstances, Claudie could not help but eye her younger brother. Whether upset or not, he certainly did not look angry at least. But there was no doubt in any of their minds about whether or not Gaston had died as there would be no other reason why LeFou would have come home.

LeFou spooned some soupe aux pois into his mouth.

"Let's say grace," muttered Claudie then.

M. Humbert agreed.

But Claudie had been in relief too soon, for there was a strange red glint in Timothée's eyes as he stared at his own soup. She only noticed after she saw LeFou stare wide-eyed at Timothée across from him.

His fingers were beginning to shift strangely and the nails began to turn hard and sharp.

"Timothée! Stop!" M. Humbert barked.

Claudie cried, "What's wrong?"

But Timothée didn't listen. His eyes lifted to LeFou, and LeFou seating himself back down began to sink fearfully into his chair. His teeth clenching hard together as he watched Timothée's teeth turn sharper than those fingernails turning into claws. The low reptilian growl caused him to wince.

"Timothée?" LeFou gulped.


	3. Chapter 3

JMJ

CHAPITRE TROIS

"I knew he wouldn't come unless Gaston was dead …" Timothée hissed in a hollow petrifying tone that was barely recognizable as his voice.

M. Humbert and Claudie both stood up at once and tried to hold him back and calm him down, but the dragon was already taking hold of Timothée. Once the dragon took hold it was ever so much more difficult to get the boy to listen. Yet as the snout of a dragon began to protrude out of the human face, he seemed to be fighting it. The tension in his eyes squeezing shut seemed to prove him successful, but just as LeFou began to feel a little less in danger, he felt a sudden clasp around his ankle like a cracking whip. The half-dragon's eyes flew open and LeFou found himself yanked right under the table by the long and powerful tail.

"Whoa!" screamed LeFou.

"Timothée!" cried Claudie.

The tail whipped LeFou against the floor, and his tongue lolled out from the confusion and the pain. But the dragon did not look done yet as it swung around toward LeFou for a second attack.

"Stop it!" cried Claudie jumping in front of him.

"You'll kill him!" roared M. Humbert. "Is that what you want?"

The transformation which had grown the dragon almost to the ceiling now ceased. There was a pause. Then the boy began to reemerge and the dragon to dissipate. When he was back to normal fear struck his face and he looked down at LeFou.

"Guillaume?" asked Claudie glancing down at LeFou staring up at the ceiling in a haggard sort of manner. "Are you alright?"

Teeth clenched and hair on end, he blinked, but he looked as all right as he could be considering the circumstances.

"You take care of him again, Claudie," said M. Humbert. "I'll take Timothée."

"I'm sorry," said Timothée. "I'm sorry, I—" He pounded the table.

"Don't get angry with yourself!" said M. Humbert. "I order you."

Timothée sighed and allowed his father to take him away.

LeFou remained staring upwards for a few moments more, and then slowly he raised his head to Claudie who was sitting at the table again and staring back at him.

"We told you to keep your mouth shut," said Claudie.

"But he asked!?" cried LeFou, and he climbed back up onto his feet not too much hurt from the experience; though very shaken.

He peered up after where his father and brother disappeared up the stairs cautiously as if he half expected the dragon to sweep back down the steps after him for the kill, but the door closed to M. Humbert's bedroom, and nothing further happened. The clock ticked but otherwise all was silent in the little house.

"Claudie …"

"What?"

He slowly turned back to the kitchen.

"What are we gunna do?" he asked, eyes shifting uneasily.

"Turn him back to normal?"

"How?"

"We don't know yet," said Claudie. "We haven't figured that out."

LeFou rubbed his hands together nervously. "But it's a curse, right? There's always a way to break a curse."

Fumblingly then, he opened a cupboard and closed it again as though still in a state of shock. He opened another and pulled out a wine bottle. With a corkscrew he pulled off the top and turned the bottle to pour its contents into his mouth.

"Oh, no you don't!" Claudie snapped snatching the bottle away after the first gulp. She slammed it on the table.

"But, Claudie!" LeFou whined. "What are we gunna do?"

"Stop asking me that! Not get drunk on expensive wine for one thing! But now you see why we don't have time to baby you? We need your help."

"Well, _I_ don't know what to do! He's my brother! First my best friend gets killed by a cursed beast in a castle, and now my brother's a dragon! What could be worse!?"

He grabbed the bottle again, but before his grip was strong enough Claudie snatched it away a second time.

"That's a terrible habit of yours! Trying to drink as much as Gaston turned you into a hopeless drunkard! It's obscene! And it's not gunna help anything!"

"No one can hold his beer like Gaston," LeFou said with a slight chuckle as he leaned back against the cupboards, and he sighed sadly. "Or at least …"

Claudie put her hand her brother's arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry about Gaston."

"Why?" asked LeFou with a shrug and a wrinkled nose. "You never liked him anyway."

"It wasn't him," retorted Claudie. "I never hated him. What do you think I am? I didn't want him to die, especially not like that! It sounds horrible what's happened." She paused and then asked gently, "Are you alright?"

LeFou shook his head. "No. What are we gunna do?"

"The only thing we can do. Work."

#

It was not considered in anyone best interest that LeFou share a room with Timothée. He slept with his father that night, and most uncomfortably for the bed was very small and both father and son woke each other up with their snoring. But it was far better than risking a dragon's wrath.

The next morning after breakfast Claudie prepared herself and her older brother for a trip to scout out work for him. He complained, certainly, but just the sight of Timothée shut him up again. LeFou had not quite forgotten the evening before just yet. He smiled nervously but said nothing until after Timothée went back up to his room, and it turned out to be a very good thing that he left when he did.

It was just after Timothée disappeared that the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" exclaimed LeFou, and as he stood back to see the figure at the doorstep in full he was rather taken aback at how delicate and lovely the petite woman standing before him was.

She looked like a porcelain figurine from the pastel colors of her hair and clothes, to the soft pale features on her face and tiny hands. She was no Belle, but her beauty was of a different kind.

"Bonjour, monsieur," said the woman looking down at LeFou with some confusion. "Excuse me. _Comment vous appelez vous_?"

"Oh, Bonjour! I'm LeF—" He cleared his throat sharply and held out his hand, his grin broadening. "Uh — I mean, Guillaume! Timothée's brother!"

"Is Timothée at home?"

"Celeste, right? _Enchantée_!" He tried to act gentlemanly, and it might have worked if he had not been smiling so goofily, but Celeste did not seem to notice either way as she looked over his head easily into the house in the hope of catching sight of her beloved.

"Yeah, anyway!" said LeFou with a shrug. "Timothée's home, but—"

"He's still ill!" Claudie interrupted. "I—I'm afraid he's not any better. In fact it may be getting a little worse."

She glanced down at LeFou uneasily.

"Then it's all the more reason why I should see him," said Celeste. "My father barely allowed this visit. You know he doesn't quite approve of the marriage anyway, and I …"

She wrung her hands quite distressed.

"I'm sorry, Celeste," said Claudie. "But you just can't. Not right now."

LeFou scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Well, maybe you could—"

"No!" Claudie broke in.

"But maybe the sight of me will cheer him up," urged Celeste. "Please, Claudie."

"Yeah!" LeFou agreed nodding vigorously.

"It's out of the question," Claudie said. "He's in his room, and he can't come down. Please."

Completely distraught the young woman withdrew, but only after making Claudie promise to tell her the moment Timothée could see her. LeFou was surprised to see her get into an elegant carriage which drove her off.

"Whoa," said LeFou, and he turned up to Claudie brightly as they exited the house as well. "That's quite the girl Timothée's got. What a catch! She's rich too, isn't she?"

"Moderately so," said Claudie with a nod.

"Whew!" exclaimed LeFou. "Well, and a rich father too. Huh. Well, I guess that's all the more reason not to let them know what happened to Timothée. I mean if her old man doesn't want her to marry him now, just think how he'd be if—"

"Yes. We have!" Claudie said. "And we don't want to think about it anymore. We're gunna cure him before that happens."

"How's getting a job gunna cure him?"

"We need to eat. We need a house."

"Well, if you ask me, I think there's only one way to cure what's wrong with Timothée."

"What's that?" asked Claudie hesitantly.

"Let him marry the girl. With a girl like Celeste around he'll never get angry again!" exclaimed LeFou stopping in mid step to throw out his arms dramatically.

"Ug!"

"What? I didn't even know Timothée could get that angry like that. The only one who gets angry around here is you." And here LeFou laughed. "Good thing you didn't turn into the dragon otherwise we'd all be dead."

"Oh!" moaned Claudie rubbing her temple. "Could you just grow up?"

" _Pfft_ , I'm older than you."

"Then act like it."

#

There was only one job that fit his qualifications, the qualifications of a town fool that is, and that was a street cleaner, but it was instantly LeFou's thought that if they asked their uncle perhaps he would have an idea for something better as he had for Timothée. If there was anyone the opposite of a fool in the family it was Uncle Jérémie. Thus after the idea came to his mind, LeFou lost no time in making arrangements to visit him. Claudie came as well, and it was that Jérémie had just the sort of job for him.

"Assistant cobbler."

"Cobbler?" asked Claudie.

"Yes," said Jérémie leaning back in his chair in a comfortable office where he worked. "I know a cobbler who has had some trouble keeping help these days. It's what I do, keep track of things, and I can guarantee you, Guillaume, that you would be invaluable to him for your size. You would not need to lean over to help people try on their new shoes."

LeFou made a face. "Shoes?"

"Well, if you'd rather clean up sewer sludge from the street corners …" said Jérémie with a shrug.

"No, but—" moaned LeFou.

"He had a boy," Jérémie went on, "for a while helping him, because only a young man would do for such work, for he is successful even if a bit of a penny pincher. So low wages, I'm afraid, to begin with, but if you prove yourself as a respectable and valuable employee I'm sure you can muster a raise out of him. You have a way of flattering people when you want to even if it's usually unintentional."

"So you'll put in a word for me?" asked Guillaume.

"If you promise to work and make it worth everyone's while," muttered Jérémie lighting a cigar. "Earn your name back, so to speak. 'Guillaume' is too strong a name for a lazy good-for-nothing. I will start calling you 'LeFou' myself if you're not careful around me."

"Oh, I understand, Uncle Jérémie! No sweat!" LeFou said. "There's no way I'm spending my time cleaning up horse poop all day. You won't regret it. You'll see! I'll live up to Guillaume le Conquérant and Guillaume … Aw, y'know! I'll live up to my name!"

"That's the spirit."

"If he'll keep to it," agreed Claudie.

"Well, then you'll just have to make sure he does, Claudie," said Jérémie. "You're good at that." He paused to blow out a puff of smoke. "Timothée's not getting better then? Seeing as you had to kidnap Guillaume?"

"I came home on my own, Uncle Jérémie!" LeFou insisted.

"I meant to bring you _here_ ," retorted Jérémie.

"Oh, that … well, I came on my own for that too."

"Whatever happened to that old scoundrel you used to hang around with?" asked Jérémie as though absently, but anyone who knew Jérémie knew that this tone was his cataloguing tone. "Gaston."

LeFou hesitated twiddling animatedly and fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Gaston got killed, uncle," said Claudie.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," said Jérémie.

"He made up for himself," said Claudie. "I guess, according to Guillaume."

"He saved the village!" LeFou exclaimed climbing upright in his chair and leaning over the desk.

"The mythical monster from the wood?" muttered Jérémie. "There had to have been some truth to it."

"Oh, there was!" cried LeFou. "It was living in the prince's castle and it was huge and the castle was—"

Claudie made a slicing motion for him to stop.

"And Gaston, uh, killed him there," said LeFou seating himself and looking rather gloomy.

"He was the one who was rumored to have been killed at the castle then?" said Jérémie. "I didn't know he had that kind of courage, honestly." He shook his head sadly. "Quite a tragedy."

When Claudie and LeFou departed Claudie reminded him, "Uncle Jérémie is a realist. He won't believe in cursed castles."

"Or dragons either," shrugged LeFou. "I 'spose that's why you never told him earlier. Too bad! He probably would know exactly how to cure Timothée."


	4. Chapter 4

JMJ

CHAPITRE QUATRE

Except for the fear that Timothée may turn into the dragon again, LeFou's life became rather humdrum for the next two weeks, and Timothée himself tried at all costs to avoid being in his brother's presence for too long a time. At first, it was interesting to go to a new place and see all the people that came and went at the cobbler's but it lost its spark after about an hour and forty-five minutes. Thus with no one around save the serious faces of his boss, his sister and his father, he began to feel very bored and to miss the little town, especially the tavern, and especially Gaston.

"Whoever said that city life was more exciting than country life," LeFou muttered, "didn't have to work."

At least he had been free in the little town. He could only watch from the windows and between people's legs to even catch a glimpse of the advanced entertainment of the city.

But all that changed suddenly on the day he was paid, and he had money of his own. It was then that he realized that country life was the most mundane existence on earth as he made for the first lively tavern he laid his eyes upon.

He had not exactly planned it that way, it must be understood. He had had a firm purpose that morning to bring the money home to his father directly, but he had been so distracted by the smells and the sound of music which had been so long absent in his ears that his mind had been instantly snatched away, and like a dog to a sausage he bounded towards its source.

He had never been amidst such rowdy company, and he was so amazed by it all that he did not care in the least when the bartender joked about his size. He was used to that anyway. Not one person did he recognize, but they all certainly knew how to have a good time. He wasted no time in making his order so that he could join the fun too.

"The biggest mug of beer and the strongest cigar!" he called forth.

Sure he gagged his lungs out trying to smoke for the first time, but it was the beer that cheered him up instantly. It made the work he had done for that past two weeks all worthwhile.

"Now this!" he said to no one in particular as he leaned back in a chair. "I could get used to this! _Savoir faire_ at its best!"

And after slugging down a full mug he instantly got in on the nearest conversation he could get in on with his second mug. The talk was rude, loud, and sometime surprising to him because of his closed-off village life. He tried to pretend that he knew what they were talking about, but his table did not take him seriously anyway. In fact they were so boisterous a company that they often shoved him right out of his chair. It was almost like sitting amongst five Gastons, except that they did not know him and were all city dwellers.

One of them was also a sensitive person besides, contrary to his appearance, and if there was only one reason why LeFou did not spend all his money on beer and pass out from overconsumption it was because someone knocked him clean out of the tavern for his foolish mouth, which grew downright ludicrous after a fourth mug of beer on an empty stomach.

Neither too offended nor too hurt, LeFou recalled then that his father would probably want to know what happened to him.

"Wouldn't wanna worry ol' Pop!" he laughed merrily.

Thus, picking himself up and singing a slurred drinking song, he bumbled his way back home. Every so often a hiccup would make him almost lose his step, and he almost went the wrong way at his last turn. As he arrived at the front steps he tripped face-first right into the door.

" _Guh_!" slurred LeFou as he pried himself off with a dopey, pained grin. Reaching for the handle too high and then too low he managed to at last take hold of the knob and slammed the door open.

"Guillaume!"

This was Claudie, of course.

The family was in the kitchen finishing up a late supper which they eventually had to eat without him.

" _Bon nuit, tout le monde_ ," announced LeFou with arms sweeping upwards as though trying to start up the overture to an intense opera.

"Take him to bed, Claudie," muttered M. Humber with a groan.

"It's not even nine yet and you're already that drunk!" exclaimed Claudie rising from his seat towards him. "What's the matter with you?"

Once she came to his side, his only response was to tip a non-existent hat and dropped his remaining money into Claudie's hands. Unprepared for this action, Claudie was not able to catch more than a coin of the few that remained from falling, clanking, and running all over the floor. One rolled coin away into a hole that the dragon had made.

"Give that to Pop, okay?" said LeFou with a chuckle and he patted Claudie's arm. "Oh, oh!" he then suddenly exclaimed.

Claudie opened her mouth to complain but had not the chance as LeFou bounded eagerly to Timothée, as pale as death with fright at what LeFou would say to him.

"Timothée! Just the guy I wanted to see!"

"Guillaume! No!" snapped Claudie.

"Wait!" gasped Timothée holding out his hands.

LeFou only laughed. "No, listen! See. It's fool proof! True love's kiss! If you love the girl and she loves you, the best way to break the curse is go an' kiss Celeste!" He closed his eyes and held out his chest proud of himself for his ingenuity.

When only silence followed, LeFou frowned and crossed his arms. "Hey, c'mon! Nothing's stronger than true love's kiss. Just ask Prince Phillip! You know! Freed a whole kingdom of theircu _—uhr—_ "

Dragon claws had him by the scruff in that second, and they were growing larger rapidly along with the rest of Timothée into that angry red creature.

"I told you to _shut up_!"

Fire blew from the dragon's nostrils just at the moment when the snout appeared. Snapped its huge jaws open for a roar, the dragon made to swallow the screaming LeFou.

M. Humbert, on his feet at once, had an empty pot in his hand and smacked it against the dragon's leg.

"Timothée!" he snapped.

The teeth missed their mark by a few loose hairs on end of LeFou's bangs, and with eyes wide in disbelief he went limp in the dragon's clutches as the dragon's attention swung towards M. Humbert raptor-like but only long enough to shove the man away roughly into the table.

"No, Timothée!" begged Claudie, tears in her eyes. "Stop!"

But the dragon wouldn't listen. Its frustration and rage seemed to intensify, rather. No doubt that the rage was more than anger with LeFou and with the whole hopeless situation. Inside Timothée could no longer stand it. The dragon seemed unstoppable, but it reacted to Timothée's distraught feelings, and instead of attacking M. Humber further as it seemed ready to do, it blew fire upwards and tore out the top of the house through the roof.

Rafters and shingles fell down inside, but Claudie and M. Humber managed to hide from the debris without being too hurt as they clutched each other behind the armchair. When the damage was done, Claudie was first to leap to her feet to look up at the dragon flying into the air, and with a gasp she looked around her in fright.

"Oh, no …" she breathed. "He still has Guillaume."

"Timothée!" called M. Humbert.

But the dragon did not seem to hear him or care. It raised LeFou in its claws and in a swirl of its long tail, it threw him downwards.

Claudie shrieked.

So did LeFou as he plummeted toward the city, the buzz of freefalling swimming around him.

 _Splash!_

At least he had landed in water, but the current caught him and swept him far away from even the several blocks the dragon had thrown him from the house. He rammed into a stone jutting out in the river on its way to a bridge, and again he passed out.

When he woke up he found that he had been dreaming a whirl of strange and unpleasant thoughts. At first he thought that the dragon throwing him to his death had been part of those dream even though most of them had revolved around his own village: Gaston, the gang, the tavern, and the funny girl Belle who was now the princess—but as he lifted his throbbing skull and opened his eyes to the underside of a small bridge fear stung him like a bee as he jumped to attention.

He spun his head around to see if the dragon was still around, but fear quickly subsided. Seeing as it was daylight, he assumed the dragon to be long gone. He lowered his head to the stone slab upon which he had been lying.

"That's the second time this month I got hit on the head so hard I passed out," he groaned.

"By the dragon," murmured a gloomy voice from the shadows in a further corner beneath the bridge. "And you could have died twice last night. I could have killed you, and you would have drowned if I hadn't pulled you out."

"As the dragon?" asked LeFou in disbelief.

"Of course not as the dragon," retorted Timothée. "The dragon wants to eat you."

LeFou's eyes narrowed as he lifted his head again and clambered onto his unsteady feet on a pair of shoes that were still a bit soggy from his watery plunge. He looked up and saw Timothée sitting in those shadows. He looked about as lost and forsaken as a homeless dog, and he stared out behind LeFou at the glittering river beyond the shadow of the bridge. The sound of hoof beats and a wagon clattered overhead, and despite himself, LeFou looked up at the bottom of the bridge a moment before he made his way towards his brother.

"Why me?" he asked. "What did I ever do? I mean, I know we were never exactly close but—"

Timothée shook his head and got to his feet, sighing heavily. He climbed out of his corner and along the river. Apparently he had only been waiting to see if LeFou was all right. Since he seemed his usual self, there would be no longer a reason to stay around and wait for the dragon to try to kill him again.

Watching for a moment, LeFou then followed after him.

"Wait!" he called. "Hold up! Where are you going? Home's the other way."

Timothée stopped but did not turn around as he crossed his arms and looked up at the sky.

"Are Claudie and Papa okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, they're okay," nodded LeFou after a moment's consideration of last evening's events.

He did not have to mention that Timothée ruined the house. That had not been part of the question, and there was no reason to make Timothée feel even worse about the situation than he already did. Or make him look more miserable than he already looked.

LeFou smiled and scurried to Timothée's side rather like that spaniel his tavern claimed him to be.

"Hey, c'mon, Timothée," he said encouragingly as he stepped out in front of him and gave him a false punch on the arm. "Things could be worse."

Timothée rolled his eyes. "Like how?"

"Uh …" LeFou scratched his head. "We could be dead?"

A flicker of red annoyance flashed in Timothée's eyes and LeFou stepped back and grinned nervously.

Timothée shook his head and began walking again.

"You'll get through this," LeFou insisted with a swing of his fist as he followed again.

They climbed up onto the top of the bank, and Timothée led the way over the bridge and through the last neighborhood of the city towards the country road.

"Come on! You're the strong silent type! They can get through anything! Just keep it together!"

"Don't tell me what you think I want to hear," said Timothée. "It'll just make me irritated."

"Why?" LeFou demanded. "What do you want me to tell you? That we're all doomed?"

"You'd tell me to cheer up and look at the bright side even if I was dying of the plague and you'd be on my side right now even if I was a homicidal maniac. It's the way you are."

LeFou frowned but his pace did not falter.

"It's just …" Timothée stopped, and then shook his head as he changed his mind about what he was going to say. Then he looked down at LeFou again. "Why are you following me?"

"Because, I'm not gunna let my brother go brooding by himself all over the countryside," retorted LeFou with a sweep of his hand towards the rolling hills ahead. "You'll never break the curse that way."

"And you're suddenly an expert on curses?" asked Timothée.

"Well, I'm gunna help you figure it out," said LeFou. "And I understand. You wanna get away for a while. Work things out!"

Timothée rubbed his temple with a moan.

"We really should have brought something to eat, though," said LeFou. "I'm starving."

"Then go and get something."

"I'm not leaving you," LeFou retorted. "Otherwise you'll leave without me."

"And if the dragon eats _you_?"

LeFou waved his hand aside. "Aw, I'm not afraid of that dragon. I faced worse. You should have been at the castle. The whole place was alive."

Timothée made a face.

"It was! It was!" exclaimed LeFou quite animated. "Literally! Every guy in town couldn't stand up to it."

"Yeah, you said that."

"But it's true," said LeFou. "Every hob, knob, and broomstick was attacking us. Not to mention things a lot heavier than that! I wouldn't be surprised if the staircase tripped up half the guys! And if you faced a whole living castle, which by the way is a lot bigger than a dragon and if good old Prince Adam saw it he probably wouldn't even be able to live comfortably in that place curse gone or not, a dragon's nothing!"

"If you say so."

"I do!" said LeFou as he held out his coat proudly.

"But you know …"

"What?"

"If we're gunna eat, you know what we gotta do on this traveling about?"

"Uh, of course I do," said LeFou nervously. "I can work."

Timothée smiled. "We'll see."

#

So, on they went, and true to his word, when they came to the next town, LeFou quite surprised Timothée in his willingness to help out at a small job in order to earn enough money for some supper. Timothée's guess was that it was merely that LeFou had a mission again. He was an aimless good-for-nothing without one, it seemed, and since Gaston's death it also seemed that LeFou's only mission had been to eat as much as he could with the least amount of work. It did make Timothée a tad uncomfortable to know that LeFou had at last made him Gaston's replacement after a fashion, but he no longer had the heart to verbally dissuade his brother from following for the time being. After all, it had been years since LeFou showed any interest in anyone else's welfare aside from Gaston's.

When Timothée recalled a few of those memories from that little town where he had been born he could feel the trace of fire underneath. The dragon hated LeFou. It had grown a desire to devour him whole since the moment it first grew angry with him when it saw him peeking through the window at their house. It must have felt the old grudge Timothée had for LeFou for abandoning the family.

Yet as M. Humbert had said, Guillaume had never purposely meant to hurt the family even if he was careless and had little excuse for his behavior other than a frivolous mind that could not focus on anything long without his captain there to direct it. The real crime in all this was that LeFou had decided to make his captain Gaston who, although strong, bold, and talented, had even less natural sense about the cares of others than LeFou.

Now that LeFou was paying attention, even if it was only because Gaston's death forced him to face a bigger reality, he was trying his best to take care of Timothée. It would have been nice if he was not so foolish and careless about making the dragon irritated.

Unless, it was the mere fact that LeFou was trying to help that was making the dragon angrier still.

Honestly, sometimes Timothée was not certain whether or not the dragon had a mind of its own not related to himself at all and that it did not want the curse to be lifted…

Uneventfully, LeFou and Timothée travelled until evening and stayed at a cheap inn overnight. The next morning had them up again relatively early, and this is mostly because Timothée tried to rise early enough to evade LeFou's following him.

"Oh, there you are!" laughed LeFou already awake and having breakfast when he caught sight of Timothée sneaking through the built in tavern to the front door. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Timothée groaned, and although the fire of the dragon felt a sudden urge to explode, it was not strong enough to turn him. The boy sat down across from his brother at the little table and ate his breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

JMJ

CHAPITRE CINQ

"So," said LeFou as they started on the road again. "Where are we planning on going? We can't exactly go on like this forever."

"I don't know," Timothée admitted. "Especially with a … uh …"

"A partner?" LeFou offered.

Timothée made a face. "Y…eah." He paused. "You know, you're the one who's in a hurry to go nowhere, right?"

LeFou didn't seem to hear. "If we go east far enough we'll end up in Rome. I hear they know how to party."

"We're going south," Timothée remarked.

"Then we'll take the long way round at the ocean. Whatever!"

The prattle went on in this way for a time as they traveled the countryside to nowhere but a winding path that would eventually end at the Mediterranean as LeFou concluded.

They had a little lunch they brought from the last inn, even though LeFou complained that they should have brought more. Later when supper came around after a hard cleaning job in a little town much like the one they used to live in, Timothée said with a shrug, "That's a vagabond's life, Guillaume. You might as well get used to it. Unless you'd rather, uh …"

"No way!" exclaimed LeFou shaking his head vigorously. "I already told you you're not getting rid of me with food. What kind of idiot do you think I am?"

He plopped down on a chair across from him in a table by the door of the little inn.

"Even though," LeFou shrugged after a gulp from his mug. "I gotta admit you don't know _savoir vivre_ until you get all your meals on the house in benefit of knowing the most famous guy in town! Even before his hero status!"

"Is that the secret to why you liked hanging out with him so much?" Timothée could not help but mutter.

The second the phrase passed his lips he looked up at LeFou in alarm, afraid such a remark about the recently deceased would upset him, but LeFou seemed undisturbed.

He laughed in fact, even if it had just the touch of a distant sound to it.

"Yeah, sure! Free meal. Free beer! What more could a guy want?" teased LeFou.

"Is that worth being labeled the town fool and getting the stuffing beat out of you by accident by one flick of a bull-strong arm?"

" _Pfft_ ," LeFou sniffed. "I would've been labeled that either way. What do you expect with looking most like your Uncle César who joined the circus? I couldn't even take over Pop's job as the blacksmith! Everyone knew that."

"I guess I never knew that bothered you," Timothée admitted quietly drinking from his own mug.

LeFou went on as though he had not heard. "I know you and Pop and Claudie didn't like Gaston much. Don't know why when practically the whole town adored him. I was his right hand man! Everyone was jealous of my position."

"Jealous, huh?"

LeFou drank more of his beer from his mug and smacked his lips happily. "You bet, they were! He didn't confide in anyone else like he confided in me. When we were little I was the one who told him about those plots Théo down the street from us was making against him — cuz he was jealous, of course. Cuz he was older than Gaston. Gaston trusted me like no one else. _I'm_ the one he told all his secrets too. _I'm_ the one he always wanted to hang out with. _I'm_ the only one that was given the special duties of the gang. No one knew Gaston like me, so he could call me what he liked! _Everyone_ was a fool compared to him! And losing a tooth now 'n again? What's that? Getting pushed over sometimes? That's nothing. It takes a lot more than a face full of dirt to hurt me! It's called roughhousing. Most guys do that, you know. I know you never did, but meh— Nobody roughhoused like Gaston. He was a bear, an ox, and a lion all at the same time! He was so strong just looking at his muscles could throw anyone across the room! Except maybe Pop." He laughed. 

"Okay, okay, I get it," said Timothée. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Aw, don't worry about it," muttered LeFou just a little patronizingly as though he could not expect his younger brother to fully understand, but his cheerfulness fell away for a moment as he thought about his fallen chief and wished he was still there.

Timothée looked on him with pity, and then looked away out the window showing the view from the direction from which they had come to the town.

"Speaking of our father," he muttered. "Claudie and him?"

"What about them?" shrugged LeFou glancing up again.

"They're probably worried."

"Yeah."

"They probably think I killed you and ran off."

"We could write 'em a letter?" LeFou suggested, "Well, if they still live at that address, anyway."

Timothée frowned. "Why? Why wouldn't they just be at home?"

"Well, you _did_ destroy the whole house, Timothée," said LeFou as-a-matter-of-factly, and he shrugged again. "They can't exactly live in a pile of rubble."

"The whole house!" gasped Timothée.

"You exploded out the roof," said LeFou carelessly, and then he hesitated realizing just then that his tone may not be the most appropriate for the situation and not exactly beneficial to either his or his brother's health.

As he glanced up at his brother he could see the tension in the face, but not quite anger. At least he sensed no anger at him anyway. Hopefully it could be cooled quickly before the dragon returned. LeFou guessed that any anger Timothée had at the moment was probably directed at himself, a concept that LeFou did not exactly understand but knew that Timothée was prone to.

"So!" said LeFou with a very wide toothy grin, and he leapt out of his chair and grabbed Timothée by the hand. "Let's get a move on, right? Straight through the night?"

"Why?" Timothée demanded. "So I can kill you in the middle of the night where no one will see?"

With a gulp, LeFou released his hold instantly and backed away. Neither the wave of his hand aside nor the return of his grin did anything to hide his nervousness. "Ha! No, of course not!"

"Why do you think I left in the first place!" snapped Timothée. "Go home and tell them yourself what happened. They're probably at Uncle Jérémie's."

"Timothée! Calm down," urged LeFou holding up his hands and glancing around him to see if anyone was watching them, but his real concern was the red growing in Timothée's eyes.

Squeezing his eyes shut Timothée spun around away from LeFou, and began to march away.

"Hey, wait!" called LeFou bounding after him out the door and into the night street, and he grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket. He looked down too and noticed the scaly skin turning red on Timothée's hand. "Uh, oh …" LeFou let go and backed away, but it was too late. 

The dragon spun around. As a goat threatening to butt heads its head nearly swung into LeFou's. It snarled, and after rearing its horns it lunged forward again to snap him in two. LeFou ducked and held his head, but that did not save him from the whip-like tail which suddenly snapped around his middle.

"Hey!"

"What's that!"

People were starting to notice. The long shadows of evening couldn't hide a dragon already larger than a horse and wagon.

The dragon spun its long neck around to leer on a group of people about to enter the inn. Then it lunged up into the air, again with LeFou in tow. Up over the village, the dragon tried to whip LeFou towards its mouth to eat him, but LeFou hugged that tail for dear life despite the painful spikes along the top of it.

The dragon roared in fury.

Moaning loudly, LeFou closed his eyes only to open them again with another shriek as he almost ran right into a weathervane. Only his shoe nicked the top of it, and the dragon flew up towards the bright half moon.

It flashed its tail in an attempt to cause LeFou to fall, but LeFou clung the harder as he threw up his dinner over the side.

The dragon swung its neck around to bite LeFou off, and at last LeFou let go. It was just too close for comfort to have seen his cowering face reflecting in the fire of the dragon's hate-filled eyes. It meant to catch LeFou in his mouth again, but it missed but mere inches.

LeFou tumbled over its face and head instead and came into a collision with one of the dragon's horns.

The dragon let out a louder roar of frustration, but here LeFou would remain. The dragon tried to whip LeFou off with its tail, but it soon was too angry even to try that. It flew up higher still and then flew forward. As fast as it could it flew while throwing fire upwards like a bursting volcano.

Clinging to the horn, LeFou screamed, but the sound of it was lost in the roar of dragon flame.

With the swiftness of lightning, it seemed, they whipped over the village and over the fields. The dragon beat its wings straight for the mountains like glinting daggers in the night until they were at their true gigantic size. At the very tippy top of the highest peak, the dragon reached out its claws and tore the point so that it crumbled in a mini landslide. From the heat of dragon's breath, the snow turned to slush, much of which hit LeFou in the face, but it did not faze his grip as the dragon then zoomed down along the mountain side.

Down, down towards the ground. They were surely going to crash.

LeFou squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth hard, but he felt no impact other than with air as the dragon made a swoop along the grassy ground at just the last possible second.

Heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief, LeFou nearly lost balance off of the horn, but he clasped it again looking very ill and pale. His heart pounded his woozy head like someone pounding a drum on his skull, and from its place in his chest, his heart seemed liable to jump right out of his throat.

As straight as a bullet the dragon flew on, scorching a field of wild flowers and tearing a line through a field of wheat. First it seemed to be headed back for the city, but its aim suddenly changed for the direction of the once cursed woods. So straight in fact was the dragon's aim then that it did not seem to see the little town flying towards them with amazing speed peacefully unaware of the dragon in its path.

After a while, from where he had swung facing backwards after the swoop from the mountain, LeFou at last turned to face the front having woken from his stupor or watching the mountains grow smaller at a speed he had never imagined before. And at their vicious speed, he saw quiet to his dismay that the first house they were about to run into was the house of M. du Point.

" _Wa-a-ahh_!" wailed LeFou, and they crashed right in through the upstairs bedrooms.

Leaping from bed in the parents' bedroom, Monsieur and Madame du Point could hardly believe what was happening as the dragon crashed through this wall and out the next. In the next room the three sisters jumped upright in fright and screamed.

Irritated by the piercing sound, the dragon than did what dragons do best: that is to say, kidnapping young maidens.

It snatched up the closest one and snarled in the poor girl's face. Luckily it had not thrown any fire, but the force and smell and the horror of the situation had her nearly fainting.

 _Bang!_

M. du Point had gathered his wits quickly enough and with nightcap flung to one side of his head, the old gentleman had his musket cocked again within seconds.

The dragon only roared, and out he flew through the other side, unfortunately with that same girl in its clutches.

She screamed as the house grew smaller beneath them before the dragon continued on its way.

LeFou, frozen and somewhat haggard with disbelief could do nothing but stare wide-eyed and blink stupidly down at the helpless damsel. Mostly he was in disbelief that he was still in one piece, but he did feel some pity for the girl.

As the dragon flew against the ground and out of town, it seemed to ride along the road, but as the road swerved to one side suddenly away from the dragon's path to the wood, there was one more building to crash through. Of solid stone — in fact, it could almost be called a small castle, if not Rapunzel's tower—the building surely could not be broken through, and LeFou hoped they would rise again at the last second.

But hind legs at the ready like a falcon diving for a fish, the dragon aimed for the asylum without hesitation.

Again the girl screamed, and LeFou moaned.

"Oh …"

And he squeezed his eyes shut.

#

"The dragon! The dragon! It's coming! It's coming!" echoed a miserable voice from somewhere in that tomb where men are forgotten — that tower of madness.

It was just one among many miserable sounds in the asylum of M. d'Arque. The old curator of this museum hall of wild fantasies and violent characters (not to mention a vast number of lost and abandoned people that were not so much mad as merely unwanted in some fashion by those who condemned them), hardly glanced up from the document he was writing out with a raven's feather quill pen. His spidery hand did not even pause as he addressed a guard on hand.

"That's M. Courtois," he muttered. "For his own good, would you be so kind as to silence him before he wakes the entire tower."

" _Oui, monsieur_. With pleasure."

The guard picked up a whip from a half-rotted table in the corner of the chamber.

"The dragon's coming! It's coming!" the echo wailed.

But hardly had the guard so much as stepped out of the chamber door when there came a crash as of cannon fire into the hull of their ship.

M. d'Arque slammed down his pen and stood up angrily.

"What was that?" he demanded.

The dragon's roar echoed now through the halls, and guard quivered.

"What madness …?" the guard whispered.

But M. d'Arque showed no signs of fear as he came to the door and leered down the corridor. He would have come to investigate further had it not been for the blazing light coming up from the winding stairs. Only here did d'Arque look afraid. His eyes grew wide in utter shock as the fire flew right up towards his doorway. The flames just licked the edges of what remained of his thin, wispy hair as he tumbled backwards into the chamber.

The dragon roared again, and both the guard and d'Arque saw it with their own eyes. It was glowing almost golden in the light of its fire. Then it tore out another wall.

All was silent then for a moment or two save the sound of the dragon's roars disappearing into the night, but not even the sound of cheering and of men no doubt fleeing the tower out the holes the dragon provided snapped M. d'Arque from his stupor — a man who had thus far in his life believed in nothing unnatural to ever occur and had attributed even the beast at the castle to have a more logical explanation than what just happened to him now. Perhaps all those years of cruelty and greed in taking in so many people who were not truly mad had eventually driven him mad himself, for it was the only explanation for what he had seen with his naked eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

JMJ

CHAPITRE SIX

As they tore through the other wall of the tower, somehow the dragon lost its hold on the girl. She might have fallen into the stone rubble, but for the split second impulse of LeFou as he reached out a hand and grabbed her by the wrist.

The girl shrieked, and LeFou almost got yanked right from the horn.

But as he steadied himself, the girl grabbed onto LeFou's outstretched hand with her other hand, and she scrambled onto the top of the dragon's head alongside the other even as the dragon tried to swipe the both of them off. Once she had hold of the other horn the girl stared at her fellow passenger and rescuer, no less, in utter surprise.

"LeFou?" she gasped.

Despite the situation LeFou grinned broadly, the only way he could grin. "Uh, hiya, Lisette." He even dared a wave before clinging to the horn with both hands in a sudden swoop.

"I'm Lilou," said the girl with some annoyance despite their plight.

"Well, it's not like I can tell you girls apart when you're not wearing your color-coded dresses!" complained LeFou.

Then the start of the forest arose like a bushy fence emerging before an ant's ride on the back of a hornet.

If a tower would not hold back the dragon, then surely nothing would. The trees were plowed through like horse through a field of grass; though, the leaves and branches threatened to scrape off LeFou and Lilou clinging to those horns for dear life. Perhaps that was the dragon's plan, if the dragon was truly capable of calculating thought. At least the dragon seemed to be slowing down. Hopefully the fire of its rage was going down, and they would stop soon. Facing wolves or bears in the middle of the wood in the dead of night felt like nothing in comparison to this.

They spent some time in the wood, however, and the dragon did not stop its raging. It circled and growled, and there seemed no end of the madness. Then it swirled up a hill with a clearing at the top amidst a circular boundary of gentle woodland trees which seemed to fright as much as a flock of birds at the swoop of dragon wings, but they could not fly away as the dragon landed invading upon the peaceful scene.

It was here, with a sudden jerk of the dragon's head, that LeFou's weary arms lost their grip, and he tumbled down to the ground and into the long grass. Like a ball he rolled down the hill a little ways until he slammed into a tree with a thump.

"Oh …" moaned LeFou

Leaving falling around him, his head was still spinning and his body lay limp and unable to catch up with the fact that he had stopped. The moonlit hill seemed to dance with fairies in a silver fairy ring amidst the glowing grasses and sleeping wildflowers.

Then the dragon stomped in front of him, and Lilou tumbled down the dragon's back as it lower its head to snarl at LeFou.

In the grass on the opposite side of the dragon Lilou rubbed her head and lifted her shaky body to look upon the dragon about to snap LeFou into its mouth, but she was in too much of a shock to do anything but allow her head to fall into the ground woozily.

"Timothée …" LeFou squeaked. "Listen to me. Are you in there?"

The dragon cocked its head slowly as though considering LeFou a moment. The deep growl in the back of its throat however was not encouraging.

"It's me," LeFou went on breathing heavily with heart still throbbing. He grinned and laughed nervously. "Your brother!"

With a lunge of its great paw it shoved LeFou into the ground flat onto his back, and it did not stop as it shoved against LeFou's chest as though trying to shove him right into the earth.

Although he knew it to be in vain, in instinct, LeFou tried to push the paw back.

"Stop! _Wait_!" he begged hastily. "I'm sorry! Timothée! I—I—I take it back! I take it _all_ back! I was wrong! I was wrong, okay! I was stupid! I'm sorry! Can you _hear_ me?! Timothée! _Please_! Listen!"

But the dragon only lightened its grip for the purpose of shoving him down with further force into the ground and it did this three or four times. Each time his chest hurt more and each time his breath grew shallower as it was shoved out of him until at last he passed out. Once his eyes were closed the dragon opened those great jaws once more.

"Stop!" Lilou screamed.

The dragon spun its head around towards the girl who had finally found her voice and some nerve that she did not even know she possessed, but after one death in the village of someone dear to her she could not bear to see another person die that she knew. She may never have thought of LeFou as someone dear to here, but the thought of those teeth falling upon him was far too much to bear.

The dragon seemed struck to the core to see that horror stricken face, and after a dangerous growl, the grip eased from LeFou and the dragon seemed to look sad. It then seemed to shrink and loose some of its red color.

Lilou closed her eyes and cringed afraid that the dragon's stare meant that it would soon come at her.

Instead with another burst of rage, which had nothing to do with Lilou or LeFou but only the depths of Timothée's regrets, it flew away with roaring fury angry only with himself. It seemed to be flying in circles beside itself, but it still withdrew from the hill. After a few more frozen moments, Lilou opened her eyes and looked up at the fire lit sky growing dimmer and leaving the moon to shine as it had before.

She looked down then at LeFou. Running as fast as she could on her bare feet and ripping the edges of her nightdress, she collapsed at LeFou's side and shook him wildly.

"LeFou! LeFou! Are you alright? Wake up! Say something!" Tears swelled in her eyes as she fell upon him and sobbed grabbing his coat. "Please, don't be dead! You can't be dead!"

" _Mmmmph_ …" escaped the weary moan from LeFou in a heaving breath.

Lilou knelt upright and her eyes grew wide as she watched LeFou's eyes flicker open.

"Lisette?" he croaked and shook his head with another moan and closed his eyes. "I mean … Laurette … Oh. I mean …"

Lilou laughed in relief. "Lilou," she breathed.

"Right, right," croaked LeFou.

Lilou grasped him in a hug.

" _Ow_!" LeFou cried.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" she gasped releasing him. "Are you hurt?"

LeFou moaned again as he collapsed again on the ground. "Ow … yeah …"

"I'm sorry!"

"Where's …" he murmured, "where's Timothée?"

"Is that … you're brother?" asked Lilou with uncertainty. "I don't know. At home? What about the dragon? Where did it come from?"

LeFou tried to get up but found that he simply could not. It hurt too much, and he felt much too weak and dizzy to fight it, so he collapsed onto his back once more.

"I don't feel so good," he mumbled.

"Well, of course not!" gasped Lilou standing up in alarm. "That—that—that dragon tried to crush you flat! Just stay still. I … I don't know anything about doctoring anyone. You're not bleeding or anything are you?" She wrung her hands and clenched her teeth.

"Uh … I don't think so."

"Good. I should get help, except—" She paused looking around her uneasily below their hill at the wood so dark in all directions. "I don't know how to get back!"

"Lilou?" LeFou asked with a little strength returned to his voice.

"What?" Lilou demanded angrily, quite distraught.

LeFou swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "Where's Timothée?"

Lilou hesitated. "Does the dragon have him?"

"Well, yeah, kinda," grumbled LeFou.

"I don't know. But I think the dragon was headed for the castle."

"Oh, great. He's gunna destroy the castle now too?" LeFou whined. "Does he have to be angry forever?"


	7. Chapter 7

JMJ

CHAPITRE SEPT

Dawn was mere moments away as the huntsman left the castle in search of deer. He had a bow and a dog with him as he rode upon a slender horse, and they were the only ones to cross the crisp morning courtyard and out into the wood. As he made for his favorite hunting spot, all was quiet save a song of a bird drifting in the distance.

That too stopped quite abruptly, and the dog stopped dead in his tracks to sniff the air.

"What is it?"

The dog's ears pricked and his eyes lifted upwards.

The hunter followed the dog's gaze. The horse's gaze had already lifted, and all three of them saw a flash of red between the trees and disappear with a wind of huge beating wings. Climbing up onto a rocky ledge near at hand, the huntsman looked up again and nearly fell off his ledge as he saw the creature above him, but he was not as daunted as he might have been. The dragon was not as large as it had been that the night before, and far stranger things had happened in the huntsman's experience. Spending years as a hunting dagger was one of them.

The dragon was headed straight for the castle, and his first thought, of course, was that after having just survived a curse, he would not allow a dragon to wipe them all out. Taking aim with his bow he fired an arrow straight and true. It was silent. Quick. It hit right where the hunter guessed would be one of the dragon's weaker points, under the armpit. Its teeth and claws may have been stronger than iron, but its skin in tender spots on the underside were as soft as a pig's.

At first the dragon grew even more raged, and spun its head around to try to see the source of the pain, but it fell soon afterwards. Much smaller and less red, Timothée might have returned to normal before he reached the castle, after all, but the hunter cannot be blamed for that.

Down Timothée fell towards the castle wall and landed right inside the courtyard with a crash …

Inside, the staff was the only ones awake yet, being so early that the sun was just barely peaking through some of the trees. The closest to a window overlooking the fallen creature, happened to be Lumiere, and at first he jumped to see it.

As he looked a little harder and squinted, however, his eyes widened with a bit more surprise to find that the dragon was changing shape. It turned very soon in a very familiar fashion into the shape of a person. The familiarity of a scene Lumiere did not expect to see anytime again had him standing uncharacteristically still with mouth gaping, but as soon as he saw how hurt the human was he lost no time in bringing help to the poor boy as soon as possible.

#

The huntsman was greatly sorry for it, but the wound he had unwittingly given the boy had been bad enough to make things critical. The castle doctor was on it right away. All concern and pity was given to the boy, brought quickly into the castle and laid to bed with all the best of care it could offer, and where the castle was not immediately helping Timothée, the staff was abuzz with talk.

"I've had enough magic to last me a lifetime." "But nothing has happened to us." "Let's hope it stays that way." "But are there others affected by this curse?" "Other people turning into dragons?" "Oh, how awful." "For Everyone." "Is the whole world filled with such madness?"

"Alright, alright," said Cogsworth then interrupting the whispers before they could rise to true panic. "Let's not get excited. It's just one poor boy so far, and the master has taken care to help him in the best way we can. Everyone else is to go about as normal. We can handle this. It's the boy who has the problem. Not us."

"And what better place to get help in such a condition. No one else could understand better!" said Lumiere.

Cogsworth eyed him suspiciously as he did not often agree with him but only nodded after a moment and shooed the others away. "Yes, yes. Everyone back to work and stop fretting."

#

It was difficult getting used to the idea of proprieties, some of which were far more lax in this house than it used to be as it was, but it was one burden of being related to royalty. Still, no one would stop her from seeing the boy, she thought, unless someone claimed it would do her no good to see such distress during a pregnancy. Honestly, Cogsworth, who meant well as always, had unwittingly caused poor Prince Adam to be more worried than he needed to be as well, but Belle knew what she could and could not handle, and seeing the boy just for a moment would do no one harm.

But just as she was coming to the door of the boy's room, a servant came hurrying out of the room.

"Oh, Princess Belle!" she said, bowing her head. "I was just meaning to speak to you or the master."

"What is it?" asked Belle full of concern.

"Well, the boy has finally spoken, and he keeps trying to explain that there are two people from the village that he had attacked as the—the dragon, and he left in the wood. We … think he says that one of them may be hurt."

"Where in the wood?" asked Belle.

"I'm sorry, princess. I don't think he knows, but on the top of a high hill somewhere. I think. He says the one that's hurt is his brother. Guillaume. He's afraid he may even be dead."

"Well, of course, we'll have someone look for him. Both of them," said Belle. "I'll go and tell someone right away."

Luckily it did not take long to find them; though honestly it took Belle by quite a surprise to find who had been brought to the castle. She figured she may recognize them if they were from the village, but to see such well-known people she found herself quite taken aback. But it did not last long, not with Lilou sobbing so pitifully and LeFou passed out entirely with a pain stricken face.

Through heavy tears Lilou explained as she clung to the huntsman who brought her through the front doors, "First I thought he was fine and then all the sudden he started screaming like he was going to die! Then he fainted!" She stopped and choked and then went on. "And that dragon came on so suddenly and broke into our house and—! Oh!" She pressed her head suddenly into his shoulder and took the huntsman slightly by surprise, but he did not lose his bearing. "Is he gunna die?" she asked.

"I doubt it," said the huntsman evenly; he had removed LeFou from the back of his horse and was bringing him through the doors now too. "He broke a bone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, he's sure," said Belle suddenly running up to them. "Of course."

"Oh!" gasped Lilou. "Princess." She looked uncomfortable to see her, but Belle paid no mind for it would be strange enough even without all this mess to meet again.

"It's okay," said Belle. "We'll contact your family right away and tell them that you're safe."

"Oh, princess," sobbed the girl. "My house is destroyed."

"Don't worry about that," said Belle. "We can help with that too."

Prince Adam appeared beside Belle. "Yes, we will."

"Prince Adam!" Lilou nearly fainted and she tried to curtsy as well as she could in her ripped nightgown and she bowed her head so low she nearly fell over.

Mrs. Potts took over from there.

"There, there, child. You need to relax. We'll draw a nice warm bath and you can settle down with some tea to calm you. There's a good girl," said Mrs. Potts leading her away.

Lilou was quickly willing to depart with her and sit down, but she glanced once more at LeFou.

"What about _him_?"

"We'll take care of him," Adam promised. "Don't worry."

Belle could not help but smile to hear him speak so gently.


	8. Chapter 8

JMJ

CHAPITRE HUIT

Thus, once more LeFou awoke from unconsciousness about some pain or other. At first, he was so disoriented that he could not remember what had happened. Opening his eyes upon a pearly white baroque ceiling did not help at first either. Then he suddenly remembered. For a split second he wondered if he had died, but that thought quickly passed away when he noticed the bandages and the deep dull pain in his bound collar bone. His chest and ribcage felt sore too, but not any worse than a day after being tossed into a cobblestone walk face-first by a rowdy swoop of Gaston's fist, so aside from the broken bone, he noticed simply hunger more than anything else and great wonderment at his circumstances.

What could have brought him to such a massive and stately bed in a bedroom more than half the size of his father's whole house (well, before it had not been demolished by Timothée's dragon)?

He could not help but chuckle to himself, for one would almost think that he had been brought to the castle.

Then LeFou's eyes widened. Any remnant of sleep departed in that instantly. Scrambling from bed and almost hurting himself again doing so, he bounded onto the floor in a nightshirt too long for him save that his middle held it up high enough to keep the line of the shirt from going too far below his ankles. Thrusting aside a flowing drape over a broad window, he looked down and saw to his surprise how quite high up his room was, and how steep the hill and cliffs upon which only the old castle rested.

"It's the castle, alright," he said nodding to himself.

He glanced over at a chair upon which was laid very neatly a set of new clothes about his size. His old ones must have been singed and ripped beyond repair, but why would the prince take him in at all? Not that he was going to argue with a king-sized bed and spiffy new clothes that put his old ones to shame even had they been brand new.

Snatching them up he was about to go forward with putting them on, but he had to pause briefly with a wary leer at the chair as though he expected it to snatch them back and then kick him in the shins. Except for its exquisite design, it remained an ordinary, stationary chair much to his satisfaction.

Although the way his collarbone was bandaged made it more difficult than LeFou would have liked and pain of moving the arm attached in certain positions slowly him down tremendously, he wasted no time in changing into his new clothes and feeling rather important as he looked down at himself. In a reddish, high collared coat, stiff white shirt and glossy black waistcoat he could not help but feel downright princely himself. His shoes shined almost more than the floor, and he could see his grinning face gleaming back in them.

"Spats and pantaloons and everything," said LeFou happily and quite impressed.

But, though he accomplished all this one and half handed, he could not bring his injured arm at all to assist the uninjured arm in tying back his hair, a messy mop atop his head without it. It hurt too much to try to reach behind his head, so he gave up for now.

 _I hope they serve breakfast soon,_ thought LeFou. _I haven't got anything to eat since … well, come to think about it. It might be lunch by now._

He snapped his fingers. "Wait! Timothée!"

What had happened to Timothée? And Lilou? Well, if the castle had found him, they must have found Lilou. Lilou might have gone to the castle herself and brought help. But the dragon had been headed for the castle. Had Timothée changed his mind? He must have turned back to normal before he could do any damage. Obviously, the castle seemed in one piece and in a charitable mood. The dragon must have never come.

A knock then rapped upon the door, and LeFou looked up.

"Hello?" he asked.

The servant girl who opened the door looked surprised to see LeFou out of bed, but she did not mention it.

" _Bon après-midi, monsieur_ ," she said and carried in her tray.

"Oh, you brought food!" exclaimed LeFou licking his lips.

The servant set it down on a nearby little table, and LeFou followed her eagerly, and he immediately sat down to eat. It was not much just some chamomile and porridge, but it was the absolute best porridge and best tea he ever did have. The sumptuous china off which he ate seemed to add flavor itself. Not to mention the fresh slice of peach in the middle of the porridge.

So absorbed in his late breakfast, which may have been intended for him to have in bed, was he that he almost forgot all about Timothée or Lilou. But just before the servant girl left, he leaned over the table and asked, "Is Lilou here?"

The maid spun around. "Oh, I'm sorry, monsieur. She just left for home. She wanted to see you awake first but it was decided not to keep her family waiting, and you were not expected to be up so soon."

"Oh."

"But your brother is here, monsieur."

"Timothée's _here_?" gasped LeFou leaping off his chair and hurrying to the door.

" _S'il vous plaît_ , monsieur," said the maid. "The doctor said you should have your rest, and your brother is not well and _certainly_ needs his."

"Not well? Why?"

Upset with herself for riling up LeFou more than calming him down, the maid's brow puckered, but she said, "He was wounded, and he's been quite feverish too."

"Is it bad?" asked LeFou. "I mean, is he gunna be alright? Where is he?"

Hesitantly, the maid told him where to go a few doors down from his own room, and after a last bite of porridge and gulping down that slice of peach he hurried down to the room where Timothée was. Without knocking he opened the door and bounded inside to see Timothée half conscious with the doctor hovering there.

"Timothée?" he called.

The doctor shooed LeFou away like some naughty child, and LeFou though most unwillingly left in a huff and returned sullenly to his room, but only after getting close enough to look at Timothée in the face and see that Timothée looked back with full recognition. The only reason why LeFou did not push his stay was that Timothée was obviously in no mood for talking. Thus he returned, poured himself his own cup of tea and licked out the bottom of his porridge bowl with a finger.

His own wound was beginning to ache anyway, and he rubbed near it sulkily as he plopped down upon the chair which had held his clothes earlier. He glanced up at a clock ticking which he had not noticed before, and again he felt a little wary as though the objects may still decide to come to life when he was not prepared.

The stupid old castle was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was just Timothée, but he found himself wishing that he and Timothée were on the road again. Nah, forget that! He wished that the dragon curse was over period. At least Timothée was too tired and sick to turn into it now, but it seemed someone had at last became angry enough back at the dragon to fight him and succeeded too.

Would that break the curse?

LeFou doubted it, but he wanted to hope so and cheered himself up with this thought.

He was just beginning to consider going back to bed, for he was not feeling all that well. Perhaps overexertion on his wound was making him nauseous. So slipping off his chair he began to reach for his bed to lie down and was just climbing up when again there came a knock on the door, and he looked up in surprise.

"Yeah?" called LeFou.

The door opened again and another very important-looking servant, the head butler no less, stepped inside.

"Excuse me, monsieur," he said. "If you feel you're well enough the princess asks to speak with you downstairs."

"The princess?" gasped LeFou, blinking stupidly. He looked around as though someone would be there to argue, but with a shrug, LeFou found no reason for himself not to go, so with a queer smile and a slug in the air, he said, "Okay!" Then he paused. "What about the prince? Why just the princess?"

"It was thought best not to overwhelm you in your present state," said Cogsworth. "And the prince has other matters to attend to." Noticing LeFou's obvious discomfort he added in a much softer and less proper tone, "Eh—she wishes to speak with you on the matter of your poor brother."

"She does?"

Well, if anyone would take pity on their plight it would probably be Belle, he supposed. After all, she had felt pity for a beast. Who knew? Belle was smart. Maybe she would think of how to break the curse.

He allowed himself almost eagerly to be conducted downstairs into a comfortable parlor room, and there was the princess Belle waiting for him. She still looked like she always did as far as LeFou thought. Whether that meant she was always meant to be a princess or being a princess had done nothing to change her, she looked strong but amicable; as keen as a dagger but obliviously lovely just like LeFou remembered her.

But why did he suddenly feel so guilty?

He had never hurt Belle.

He brushed the feeling aside easily enough.

With a broad smile he swept down into a most gallant bow as well as he could manage given his wounded wing.

"Your majesty!" exclaimed LeFou bobbing upright again and rubbing his wound half consciously.

" _Bon après-midi_ ," she said.

Belle smiled and had him sit down, which LeFou had no problem obeying.

"We saw what happened when your brother landed," said Belle.

Good old, Belle. No pleasantries. Just down to business. But in her usual pleasant way.

"He landed in front of the castle?" asked LeFou.

Belle had spoken so naturally that he did not even bother to ask how much they knew. They knew enough, LeFou supposed.

"Yes," said Belle. "We didn't know he was a person until he crashed within wall. I'd ask him himself what was going on and if there was any way we could help but he's sick, so as long as you're here and seem to be getting along okay, I decided to ask you." She paused. "I was a little surprised to find out that Guillaume was you. I'm happy to know you have a real name." She looked rather grave as she said this, despite the casual manner with which she spoke.

LeFou laughed bashfully. "Yeah, well … _heh_." He scratched behind his head. "It's not like my parents would have called me 'LeFou', y'know."

"But what happened to your brother?" asked Belle. "How did he turn into a dragon?"

"Uh … I don't know," LeFou admitted. "He was like that when I got back to chez pop. I think they said it was like a week before that it happened, but nobody got specific about it." He shrugged. "All I know is that every time he gets angry he explodes into the dragon and each time the dragon gets more and more powerful." He demonstrated this with a motioning of his good arm higher and higher. "And for some reason he wants to eat me whole! I don't get why. I never did anything to him! I just got back!"

"He only wants to eat _you_?" asked Belle squinting.

"I don't know!" exclaimed LeFou. "He never tried to eat Pop or my sister or Lilou or her sisters or the people at the house of loons or anybody else. Just me. And at least ten times since I been back home."

"Doesn't anyone else make him angry but you?" asked Belle crossing her arms.

"Sure they do, but Timothée said that that dragon wanted to swallow me whole since the moment it saw me," said LeFou. "It just pinned me or something. It could just be that me 'n Timothée kinda have a personality clash." He leaned over confidentially. "He's sensitive. Never got along with me and the other guys. Anyway. When the dragon destroyed pop's house in the city, then Timothée got all upset and I wasn't about to let him go moping around by himself like that, so I went with him!"

Belle's brow was a bit knit as she followed the story, but she nodded as she listened.

"But I thought he shouldn't leave! I won't tell him again after what happened the first time I said it, but breaking the curse probably has something to do with Celeste!"

"Who's Celeste?"

"His fiancée," said LeFou speaking rapidly. "And they love each other quite a bit. I think Timothée's afraid he'll kill her or something, but why would he get mad at her? I think she'd cure him. And I been beginning to think that that dragon doesn't want him to cure himself. That, and Timothée's so sensitive and pessimistic about everything. All he's gotta do is kiss her, probably, and say 'I love you' and poof! The curse is over. But they wouldn't listen to me, especially Claudie who was making it worse!"

"Who's Claudie?" interrupted Belle.

"My sister," LeFou said. "Then next thing you know it and the dragon blows off the roof of our house! It's like it knew all along that was the way to cure it. I hardly say it, and the dragon tried to kill me!"

"Hmm, has Timothée seen Celeste since he started turning into the dragon?" asked Belle.

LeFou shrugged. "I don't know, not since I been home."

"What about the rest your family?"

"What about them?"

"Don't they have any insight? And what happened _them_?"

"Oh, don't worry, they're probably with Uncle Jérémie. He'll look after them, but they weren't much help in trying to break the curse. If they know how it started they sure don't know how to end it."

"Well, we'll just have to ask Timothée when he's feeling better," said Belle.

"Huh, you mean if he doesn't get so mad about it that he blows up the castle."

"I don't think he'll get angry if we go about the right way," said Belle lightly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You're not exactly good at being sympathetic about the way you say things about him," said Belle a bit confidentially herself about the matter with a bit of a wry smile to match.

"I care."

"I know, but if you talk to him about this stuff the way you just explained it to me, even a person not turning into a dragon would probably want to at least sock you in the face."

LeFou pondered over this a moment rubbing his chin and then shrugged once more. "Maybe. But I _do_ talk about it sympathetic with him. I'm not insensitive. I talk the same to him as I would to cheer up Gaston in a slump."

"Well," said Belle after a thoughtful pause before rising to her feet. "I think we'll just wait until Timothée's better. You should write to your family and tell them where you are."

LeFou nodded as he slipped out of his own chair after her.

"This sure is swell of you and the prince to help us 'n all, your majesty," he said. "I mean after that stuff with your father and we killed the beast that you liked — uh, but no hard feelings, I guess. I mean, you never would have met the prince then cuz he never would have been able to come back if Gaston hadn't, uh …"

Belle stopped and frowned at LeFou studying him with heavy brows. LeFou fidgeted uncomfortably, but even LeFou himself knew he probably deserved more than a leer for talking like that in the presence of royalty whether he used to know her before her new status or not.

"Uh …" he started and coughed into his fist as he looked down at his shiny new shoes.

Belle opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to change her mind before she began to walk again rather coolly. As LeFou began to follow she said, more back to her previous amiable manner, "We want to help your brother. Let's just say we understand it … the _prince_ and I, from personal experience."

LeFou blinked stupidly once or twice.

"You mean the beast?" asked LeFou looking quite muddled, but Belle did not answer.

"You may stay here," she said instead. "Until you're brother's well, if you wish. We wouldn't want him to be without someone he knew. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

As LeFou found his way back to his room considering what had just happened in a manner he did not usually reflect upon things, he glanced at a passing servant and up around the castle at how bright, white, and cheery it all looked compared to how he had seen it some months before. A king's ransom certainly would have been able to fix up the place within thirty days, no doubt, but it doesn't keep a prince from aging, he suddenly recalled someone had mentioned at the tavern. Then a sudden thought occurred to him.

Could the beast have once been a man a little like Timothée's situation?

He blinked queerly and hurried to the grand staircase. He surveyed the floor and watched the servants, and a thought even more strange occurred to him.

"Were the haunted objects people too?" he muttered.

"Excuse me, monsieur," came a pleasantly buoyant voice from behind. "You look lost."

" _Ack_!" cried LeFou and spun around to face the rather amused looking servant who happened to be Lumiere.

Catching his breath, and fidgeting his fingers, LeFou found himself asking earnestly, "Was this castle and everyone in it part of that curse?"

"You mean that when the whole village came to the castle thinking they were getting rid of a monster, they were they actually trying to fight a whole staff of servants who had been transformed by a magic spell and under a beast who was really the prince?"

LeFou paused a few seconds and then clamping his gaping mouth shut he nodded quickly.

"Why, whatever makes you ask such a thing like that?" teased Lumiere.

It was clearer than if the servant had told him flat out. It was as a flash like lightning.

" _Aww_ , nuts!" he spat. He turned sharply to the servant again. "Uh … no hard feelings?" he asked hopefully.

"I think you've more than paid for anything you may or may not have done considering the circumstances," remarked Lumiere far more seriously.

"Timothée? Well, I guess it's been tough, but …" LeFou lowered his head. "Well, _he_ wasn't even there, and _I'm_ not cursed." He paused. "Wait. That means that Gaston didn't kill the beast cuz if the beast was the prince he— Oh, no."

The boom of thunder followed his lightning flash.

"There, there, monsieur," said Lumiere. "Everything turned out alright. And it will now too again."

"Right, right," LeFou nodded and then looked down as his cringing face reflected in his shoes. "… except for Gaston …"


	9. Chapter 9

JMJ

CHAPITRE NEUF

It was not as if either he or Gaston had known that the beast was the prince, but as LeFou wrote his letter he could not help but recall Gaston's rage about Belle's rejection of him. He could still recall a small feeling of guilt he had felt when had realized the full seriousness of Gaston's plot when they went to Belle's house that night after meeting with d'Arque. Gaston had not been kidding around, and LeFou had been somewhat relieved that Belle and her father had not been at home. Not that guilt had ever been a thing that stopped LeFou from following his chief, his captain. Gaston knew best. After waiting so long at that house for them to show up, he had been as wound up as an over-wound toy, and had immersed himself in the situation like a little goblin when they finally showed up.

The old man? Well, sure, he was crazy. Everyone had said so. Harmless, maybe, but loopy nonetheless. Many people in town had even already said that Belle was funny in the head. Except that suddenly the beast was real and the beast had been the prince. Belle probably had known that. That was probably why she had loved him. That was probably why she married him so quickly and why the prince returned so quickly after the beast's demise at all, and Gaston?

Deep down LeFou knew that even had he known that the beast was really the missing prince he may have tried to kill him anyway. LeFou did not want to admit it, but part of him also hinted at the fact that he would have went along with it too.

LeFou shuddered and tried not think about it anymore.

All this worrying, it must be understood, regardless of how deeply he felt it while the thoughts were there, did not last long. After he wrote his letter and had it mailed, he soon found plenty to occupy himself with out on the grounds which he was welcome to explore and where he spent most of the following week. He would have preferred company, of course, and he forced it just for the sake of company as he idly chatted with a gardener or groundskeeper, and he would often sneak into Timothée's room when the doctor was not around to see how his brother was getting along.

If Timothée was awake he did not show it when LeFou was around. He was not in the mood, LeFou supposed, because he could not think of Timothée being so hurt that he was not conscious. Timothée was a moody fellow. Hard to understand, but one had to deal with such things. So he would come and go and snoop unless someone shooed him away and he would go out on the grounds again or have one of those splendid three meals a day at which he ate as well as the king of France.

Then finally, after about a week's time, Timothée at last responded to him, after LeFou found out and told Timothée so that he had responded to the doctor and a few servants. He still had not been all that responsive, but it had been late in the evening, and LeFou tried again first thing after breakfast next morning.

"Hey! Timothée!" exclaimed LeFou with a wave. He climbed right up onto the bed beside him and gave him a rather brotherly hug around the shoulder. "Feeling better?"

Timothée sighed. "The dragon's still there," he said sadly. "I felt it, but yeah, I'm feeling better." He paused. "Guillaume. I … I'm sorry about … is M. du Point's daughter okay?"

"Oh, yeah, she's fine!" LeFou assured him with a grin. "Hardly a scratch! She went home the next day and everything! And she didn't know it was you so you don't need to worry about that!"

Timothée closed his eyes, face pink with embarrassment as he pulled up his covers. "But everyone _here_ does."

"Uh …" LeFou looked around. "It wasn't me. Honest."

"They told me," said Timothée. "They saw me themselves."

"Right," said LeFou patting his brother on the knee. "So no worries. They'll keep your secret. They're good people here, Timmy."

"What about you …?" Timothée muttered.

"Hey! I would've kept your secret if they hadn't—"

"No, no, I mean did I hurt you much?"

LeFou glanced at his bandages. "Uh, it's not bad. I've been worse."

"Like that time you climbed up that tree when Gaston got his arrow stuck up there?"

"Oh, yeah! After he got that bow for his twelfth birthday," laughed LeFou.

"You said it was nothing then too after it was over."

"Well, the way I see it, anything you live through is something you can think back and laugh about," said LeFou with a slight chuckle.

"Not this."

LeFou lowered his head and groaned heavily. "You heard that Pop and Claudie are coming, right?"

"Yeah," muttered Timothée.

He sounded lethargic, and it was frustrating LeFou tremendously. Nothing seemed to wake him from his funk. Even the thought of tickling crossed his mind, but LeFou decided that tickling a sick person probably was not the best idea, especially if that sick person could, well, turn into the dragon for the umpteenth time.

"Come on, Timothée," LeFou groaned. "You can get through this. I promise! I know you don't think much of my promises, but I know it. I feel it." He grinned encouragingly and spoke as soothingly as he could. "You'll get better. You'll be normal. You'll heroically break the curse and you'll live happily ever after just like Princess Belle! Sure you won't live in a castle, but you'll marry Celeste and be well-off and live the happily ever after dream! Come on. Don't be so moody."

This time it was Timothée who groaned, but he was not angry. He was not even really annoyed. "I'll try," he said.

LeFou swiped the air with a fist. "There! You're getting somewhere!"

Timothée closed his eyes. "Hey, Guillaume."

"What? What's wrong now?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to say 'thanks.'"

"Thanks?"

"You know. For sticking with me. I didn't think you'd ever … Never mind."

"Aww, forget it! We're family. Remember?"

"Yeah."

#

The next day, Timothée seemed to have improved just that much more, and Claudie and M. Humbert were expected within this day or the next. LeFou felt that at last things were going smoothly again. His own broken bone too seemed to be healing faster than the doctor expected. At least he could tie back his own hair again, and that bath he had yesterday evening was enough to last for months it had been so soothing and pleasant, not that he wouldn't mind just having another one this evening. Each meal was better than the last, and LeFou felt overall tremendously pleased with himself. Part of him did not want to ever leave the castle.

"Being a guest in one of the finest castles in all France!" exclaimed LeFou to Timothée. "Can't get much better than that, can it?"

"You'd hardly think that there'd been a curse here."

"Yeah, that's thinking, Timothée!" LeFou laughed as he climbed into a chair across from Timothée who was out of bed and seated at a little table. " _Savoir vivre_! _Savoir vivre_! No one knows it like the French royalty! I wonder if I could make myself duke. Whaddya think?"

"Duke, huh?" sniffed Timothée.

"Well, appointed something anyway with knowing the princess and all. I had a pretty good audience with Princess Belle the other day," said LeFou, "And she hasn't lost an ounce of her good nature. None of its gone to her head, and I used to know her pretty well in the village."

Timothée glanced at him wryly. "You mean 'the girl under the beast's spell?'"

"What are you talking about?" shrugged LeFou.

"That's all you had to say about her when you told us the story, I believe."

" _Pfft_ , I didn't say that," muttered LeFou. "I knew her as well as I know you."

Timothée actually stifled a chuckle; though it was a little dry.

It encouraged LeFou however in his direction of conversation as with a grin he went on, "She and her pop used to live in Marseille or someplace like that. Don't know how they ended up in our little town, but life happens. Probably cuz old Maurice wasn't making it as the inventor there or something. Gaston knew her pretty well."

"Judging by her appearance, I wouldn't be surprised," said Timothée.

"He was crazy for her," LeFou chuckled. "And of course he only confided this to me first. As the loyal friend I am I tried to tell him that she didn't think much of him or at least try to convince him she was not worth it. It wasn't like the du Point girls. He should've known going to a girl like Belle with the whole wedding already outside her door wasn't gunna work. And that thing with her old man, well, that—"

Timothée made a face. "He insulted her father?"

"He never insulted Maurice!" exclaimed LeFou defensively. "No one insulted like Gaston, and he never insulted unless there was a good reason for it. Besides, I don't think she even knows that Gaston got the loony house involved! She wasn't even home when we—"

Holding up his hands, Timothée interrupted. "Whoa, wait, wait, wait! _Tiens_! He called the _asylum_? On her father?"

LeFou gulped. "Uh … well … we didn't know that the beast was real then. Maurice sounded like a crackpot. You would've thought so too! And I didn't know for sure that Gaston was really gunna go through with it. I mean come on! We were at the tavern when he made up the plan! And then the creepy guy from the asylum and…"

Timothée was in utter dismay. "You mean Gaston was blackmailing her! Guillaume! Why didn't you tell someone!?"

"I … I mean, maybe I shouldn't've been so … I mean, I really didn't think he'd go through with it, and Maurice was acting _pretty_ crazy, and I knew Belle wouldn't agree. And they weren't at home when he made me stand guard and— Well! Not stand guard, that's the wrong word. I mean—! _Aww_! I hoped she would. You understand, Timothée! You _gotta_ understand."

"I get it," said Timothée nodding. "I get it. You were the only one Gaston confided in. The only one who knew how evil he could be. You weren't just his arrow fetcher you were his little evil _stooge_!"

LeFou winced and tried to laugh it off. It was his only defense. "'Stooge?' Ouch, Timothée. When you put it like that I—"

"And to think I was starting to feel sorry for you! I'm such an idiot to think you ever had any true concern about anyone but yourself and that beast Gaston!"

"But Timothée! I _do_ care about—"

" _Shut up_!" hissed Timothée, and indeed his voice was hardly recognizable as speech as it turned into a growl.

LeFou hardly saw the change from man to dragon. It was Timothée beside himself with grief for one moment and the next a red scaly hide and a terrible set of jaws and fiery eyes appeared before him. He was so large so quickly he took up the entire room within seconds. The dragon's shoulders pressed up against the ceiling and its head aimed straight down leaving LeFou to shrink into a puddle of guilty and terrified goop in the corner of the room.

"Please, Timothée," he sobbed and lifted his teary eyes up at the leering dragon face. "I'm not proud of it! You gotta believe me! I'm sorry! I was stupid! A fool! And Gaston was wrong! I know! But I can't take it back now! It already happened! Besides! They're all happy now!"

The dragon showed its teeth and snarled like the warning from a very angry dog.

LeFou squeezed his eyes shut. Cringing and quivering violently with arms thrown over the top of his head, he prepared himself for the inside of a fiery dragon stomach as well as a person could. Then the dragon opened its jaws wide and snapped LeFou whole inside its mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

JMJ

CHAPITRE DIX

The dragon's snarl before popping LeFou like a piece of candy into its mouth must have been heard on the other side of the door, for the visitors just outside did not bother knocking as they threw the door open just in time to see LeFou disappeared behind that cage of teeth.

"Timothée! _No_!" shrieked a voice too late.

It belonged to Claudie, but what stopped the dragon from swallowing its prey whole was not the sight of her or M. Humbert or even the servant who had brought them there. It was the sight of a little pale face as white as a sheet and with eyes filled with terror just behind his shorter sister. It was the face of Celeste, and she held her small fists to her chest and looked about to cry.

The dragon froze and then immediately spat LeFou back out onto the floor where he still covered his head with his arms as he rolled against the wall. The dragon itself shrunk down like some part of a very strange dream, and it was certainly a nightmare for Celeste who saw then before her eyes how the dragon nearly took on the form of her fiancée. But hardly had the dragon recognized that Celeste recognized Timothée when a new rage flared up.

Throwing itself like a burning ball through the nearest window the dragon, growing again rapidly flew out into the sky in a growling rage.

Claudie was the first to move in the silent scene remaining in the broken bedroom as she bounded to LeFou's side and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, Guillaume! You're alive!" she gasped.

"Hiya, Claudie," LeFou moaned and then hugged her back wearily, though she withdrew a bit in involuntary disgust from the sticky dragon saliva covering LeFou from head to foot.

Taking her apron she tried to wipe his face like one would a dirty child, but LeFou backed away.

"Hey, c'mon!" LeFou complained.

"Timothée …" Celeste breathed stepping towards the broken window and looking out with sorrow, and she turned to Claudie. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Claudie stiffened and turned away uncomfortably.

"We have to stop him," said M. Humbert.

"I'll tell the master," said the servant.

M. Humbert nodded.

"Right. We gotta go after him." LeFou stood up a little shakily, and sticking out his tongue with distaste he moved his limp slimy bangs out of his face, but he looked determined. Almost uncharacteristically determined.

"Oh, no!" said Claudie. "You're staying here! I don't want the dragon to kill you."

"This is between Timothée and me!" LeFou declared. "And I'm gunna go help find him."

With soggy shoes he marched out of the room.

#

Thus began the search. The dragon seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. One could only assume this meant that Timothée was back to human form somewhere, but it seemed an impossible task to find him. Most likely he did not want to be found.

LeFou, after a while, was convinced by his family and the others that it was not a good idea to face Timothée alone, and his temporary bravery seemed to have vanished as hopeless as Timothée. For hours he traveled alongside his sister and the huntsman; the three of them were searching together in the wood. Claudie called out, and so did LeFou, but the only answers were the scampering of squirrels and birds taking flight out of their path.

At last they took a break, and the huntsman stopped at a stream to get some water and to sit down to think about their next move. It was not every day that he hunted down a dragon, but he knew there had to be a way to figure out the dragon's movements.

"While he's a dragon," muttered the huntsman, "he does think like a dragon, right?"

"I think so," said Claudie.

"Burning fields, kidnapping girl, yeah," said LeFou with a broad shrug.

"Then probably will continue thinking as a dragon now," said the huntsman. "Where would a dragon go in such a state beyond rage and complete distress besides? In a cave, I'd think. There are many on the other side of the river."

"I don't know if it works quite like that," said Claudie, seating herself beside him. "The dragon, I think, only gets angry not distressed."

"I don't think so," said the huntsman. "If that had been the case, it most likely would have returned in a swoop back to the castle and destroyed everyone in that bedroom with one blast of fire."

"Well, I suppose a sulky dragon would try to find a cave or something, like you said," said Claudie; she thought a moment and then realized the LeFou had suddenly become rather silent, which concerned her. Looking up she began to ask, "Guillaume. You were with Timothée for a while by yourself (and the dragon, I'm assuming). What do you—Guillaume!"

She looked around, but LeFou was nowhere in sight. Standing up in alarm she looked over at the river, hoping that he had just gone to get a drink, but he was still nowhere.

"Where could he have gone?"

The huntsman, calm as usual, glanced up for a moment and then turned to Claudie. "Probably to follow the trail."

"What?" Claudie demanded.

Looking up she then saw it too. A trail of smoke in the trees wafted above them from a particular direction.

"Guillaume!" Claudie cried angrily throwing out her hands in front of her. "Why didn't he say anything!?"

"He didn't want to waste time," suggested the huntsman rising to his feet. He motioned Claudie to follow. "He's a spontaneous fellow."

"No, you don't understand!" Claudie explained. "Guillaume tells all the world the least bit of thought that flickers through his mind!"

"It doesn't change the fact that he left us," said the huntsman. "He _did_ almost get eaten. That can affect a person. Come, mademoiselle. We'll catch up with him."

#

Truth be told, LeFou had been quite eager at first to point out the smoke when he looked above him, but just as he had opened his mouth and the huntsman got a word in before him, LeFou withdrew his hand, and that strange feeling of courage overtook him again. He did not know how, but he knew the dragon was truly between himself and Timothée. He doubted it had truly anything to do with Celeste, except that the dragon was preventing the marriage. If that was all the case, LeFou decided that the breaking of the curse had to do with him somehow.

Thus picking himself up very carefully, he managed to slip away. Not even the huntsman suspected him. Providence seemed to be with him in this. Thus, with courage and determination growing still, he followed the smoke away from his company and found his way along the river to a log. It seemed sturdy enough so he climbed up and began to cross.

At the middle it groaned just a little, and LeFou thought of going back the way from which he had come. He began to step back a pace and turn around, but at the loud snap behind him he let out a squeak and raced across the rest of the log. Tumbling into the brush on the bank, he shook his head and lifted himself up again to survey the still remaining log, but he saw too the huntsman and his sister.

"Guillaume!" called Claudie. "Wait for us!"

With a shrug, LeFou decided he would. There would be no reason to flee from them, but just as the huntsman began to cross the log, the snapping in the middle sounded again, and its cracking became visible. The water beneath was rapid and rocky and relatively deep, and the huntsman relinquished his weight upon it. It would not hold up to his crossing, for LeFou had already damaged it too much. He probably would have risked it on his own, but with a lady present he would certainly be gentlemanly enough to use a different way.

"Come on," said the huntsman. "I know a place upstream where there is an easy path across on the rocks."

"Okay," agreed Claudie.

"Wait for us," the huntsman then called to LeFou. "We'll be right there."

"Right!" agreed LeFou with a salute.

He meant it sincerely as he watched his sister and the huntsman make their way upstream until they disappeared in the foliage, but as waited and shifted his weight impatiently, he thought that Timothée probably would not get anywhere with the huntsman there. Claudie sure. But not the huntsman. He was a calm, confident stranger, and not the sort around which Timothée ever felt comfortable. No. LeFou would just have to get to Timothée before that.

 _Sorry, Claudie, nothing personal_ , he thought with a shrug, and thus he continued on his way.

In an upward climb, he followed the smoke along a rocky slope. Up, up, he started a mini rocky slide or two along his way. His collarbone began to ache, but he was almost there by then, to a cave. It had to be where Timothée was hiding, and obviously still in dragon form breathing heavily and fuming a toxic cloud of smoke. This started LeFou up into a bout of coughing and gagging as he reached the entrance of the cave quite exhausted, and heaving a heavy breath beneath the smog he squinted into the gloom and tried to spot the dragon.

"Timothée," he whispered through a cupped hand.

No answer.

The heavy breathing continued as before.

LeFou twiddled his fingers uneasily and cringed, but nonetheless he continued onward on tiptoe with eyes peeled for any sign of movement. His new shoes clapped the stone floor and echoed unsavorily, but the dragon did not seem to notice. Stopping suddenly, LeFou glanced back at the entrance as though afraid it would block him in of its own accord, but he saw nothing except a bird flying very far away over the wood. With a gulp he continued onwards hunched with fear, but he called out again just a little louder than the first time, "Timothée? Are you there?"

Still nothing changed, and still LeFou could see nothing. He tripped over a stone in his path face first on the cave floor, but he quickly picked himself up and brushed himself off as he looked above him half hoping and half dreading a pair of angry eyes to be glaring down at him. The dragon must have been deeper in than the echoes of his breath led on.

"Look," said LeFou holding out his hands imploringly then. "I know we never been on good terms, and I know it's probably my fault." He thrust his hands back to his chest for emphasis. "I shouldn't've abandoned you all, especially when Pop needed help after the bull incident. I probably could have tried to be a blacksmith. Maybe I'd never be as good as Pop, but I could have managed. I didn't want to. It was _boring_ , alright? I figured _you'd_ just do it when you got older anyway. I was carried away." He shrugged. "You know. With Gaston." He paused twiddling his fingers again and looking down in thought for a moment. "But he didn't do anything like that blackmailing thing before—!"

The dragon could be heard letting out a snarl.

LeFou covered his head and cringed. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry!"

When the dragon did nothing more than shuffle a bit on its feet, LeFou eased a little and breathed a sigh of relief. He stifled another cough, yet it seemed that that was the last of the smoke.

"Right, right," LeFou said nodding. "This really is between you and me, isn't it? The dragon wants to eat me. You're angry at me. I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I have to say it. I said it like a million times, but I'm sorry. I mean it. I never been so sorry in my whole life! My whole _life_ was a sham! Isn't that good enough?"

His shoulders slumped.

"You're probably angry at yourself though too," sighed LeFou quietly. "If it helps any. Celeste still loves you. She only wishes we told her sooner. I _said_ we should've told her sooner. But, c'mon! You don't have to beat yourself up about that either!"

"I know."

LeFou looked up again in surprise and brightened up in an instant.

"Timothée!" he gasped.

His brother's form could just be made out in the darkness, and LeFou grabbed him around the middle in a hug. Then stepping back he shook Timothée's hand happily as in congratulations. "There you are! Good to see you! Great! Let's go, huh?"

But Timothée did not seem at all happy. "I tried to eat you … I …"

"Hey, it's fine! You didn't! See, I'm still here! I'm the one who had the problem," laughed LeFou. "So now that that's all settled let's go! Claudie and that huntsman guy are out there catching up!"

He began to pull Timothée away, but Timothée would not be led.

"Guillaume, just listen a minute."

LeFou stopped and turned around clearing his throat. "Okay. What?" he asked trying to contain his impatience.

"You were wrong, yeah, but so was I."

LeFou made a face. "What are you talking about?"

"I took everything you did more personally than you meant it," said Timothée sternly. "I didn't even want to invite you to the wedding. Claudie and Papa talked me into it. I hated you, and I think … I think that's why this happened."

LeFou's brow deepened all the more, lowered in profound confusion as he studied what could be made out of Timothée's face in the darkness.

"How could I start a new life with Celeste," said Timothée, "if I hated my own brother and you didn't even know it? I thought you didn't care about anyone or anything."

"Oh …well, I…" LeFou began rather muddled in tone, and then he grinned suddenly and wrapped his arms around his back. "Glad that's worked out!" He held out one hand then. "We'll just agree we were both chumps, and now we'll start over. How's that?"

"Sounds good," agreed Timothée.

He smiled then and allowed for a firm and resilient handshake as though binding an agreement between two friends.

"Now hopefully!" exclaimed LeFou motioning towards the exit, and Timothée followed after his brother bounding like a rabbit. "All you gotta do now that we made up is start your new life with Celeste and all, and the dragon won't come back again!"

Timothée didn't answer and LeFou winced, hesitant to turn around, but he did.

"Timothée?" he asked.

Slowly falling to his knees and looking very pale and ill in the light from the cave opening, Timothée did not look up but held his hands to the sides of his head. Then he moaned and clutched his chest.

" _Whoa_! What's wrong!? What's happening!?" LeFou cried.

For a moment he could see Timothée's clenched teeth starting to change and those eyes begin to intensify and redden as a queer growl escaped a mouth slightly protruding into a snout.

Beside himself with confusion and shock, LeFou stepped back speechless.

What could he possibly be angry about now!?

It was not fair!

Unless …

It was now only the dragon that was angry.

LeFou's eyes widened as in a rather unreal display the dragon separated itself from Timothée into another entity. It let out a roar of rage as Timothée fell to the ground, but he was not passed out. He lifted himself up onto his knees again, and LeFou bounded to his side as they watched the dragon grow in front of them.

"I think we broke the curse …" muttered LeFou. "Umm. How _exactly_ did this whole thing happen again?"

Timothée did not answer, but LeFou could not blame him this time. He himself bit his lip shut in fright as they stared up at the dragon and the dragon in turn leered back.


	11. Chapter 11

JMJ

CHAPITRE ONZE

"I despise this place!" hissed the dragon in a low rumbling and eerily inhuman voice. "I could not even have the satisfaction of having Timothée swallow his brother whole in his hatred for him before heading for the castle to destroy it!"

LeFou and Timothée stared at each other for a second and then back up at the dragon.

"Then why couldn't you just destroy the castle yourself?" demanded LeFou despite himself. It was just a legitimate question.

The dragon snarled warningly, and LeFou ducked behind Timothée still on his knees on the cave floor.

"I couldn't! They broke the curse! I couldn't destroy them! They're ready now …" It smiled queerly, sinisterly, directly at LeFou peeking out from behind Timothée's shoulder. "But you weren't …"

The dragon shrunk in size, the rage left and it melted into a beautiful humanlike shape. With long fair hair, a perfectly formed feminine form and a glittering gown, she was gorgeous to behold, except for her eyes, which were cold as ice on her high held head.

"I have desired vengeance against the people of the castle and the people in its wake since they banished me all those centuries ago. Their ancestors of ancient times knew how to respect me, but them? They threw me out and ever after I haunted them when I could, when those evil or selfish enough would unwittingly call me back. Many times have I tried and failed to destroy this place, and such attempts are too long ago now to mention. But before the dragon I thought I had it completely at an end when young Prince Adam had been so cold and so stupid, and he called me back. The beast would destroy the prince, the castle, and ever would the people in its wake feel dread of him. When the prince and princess broke the curse, I set to work with something new. I was tired of failing. I would be more directly involved with the one whom I would curse next and it would be something that would work quicker than several years. I would have gone to Gaston, but even before I reached his broken body at the bottom of that gulch far, far below, I knew there was not a chance for life to be found in him, so I went back to the castle. Only briefly. The white light lifted the darkness of the curse, but before every last corner brightened I did find a shoe left behind by one of the villagers. Yours, LeFou. I'm an enchantress. It did not take long to find to whom it belonged, but you weren't good enough. Stupid. Wayward. Selfish. Certainly weak-willed enough and easy to manipulate into doing depraved things, but you weren't capable of the rage I needed. Then I discovered your brother ... so much anger. There was potential in him. There was passion. Turmoil. I decided to wait a little while still before I began it — when life grew back to normal in the little town and the castle and they would not be expecting it. I came to him. He can tell you. I got him to speak of his anger for you, his downright hatred for you. I knew which buttons to press so I could curse him. After that I only needed to direct his rage to the castle once he had destroyed you, but now that the curse has been broken I can only say that there is still yet one vengeance I can play if only against _you_."

LeFou gulped, but the enchantress was not speaking to him anymore. She was speaking to Timothée.

"I cannot lay a magic finger upon the castle or its inhabitants without someone's help. Not for another generation or so. They've already been tried. But there is one person in particular that I may be able at least to kill before my power runs out this time around, for I certainly won't be able to curse her. But, they will all think it was you who did it."

And she turned into the dragon once more. With heavy wings she began to fly out of the cave, the force of her flight pushed both Timothée and LeFou into the floor, but neither were hurt.

Timothée was up first in a panic.

"She's after Celeste!" he cried.

"Of course, she's after Celeste," said LeFou rubbing his head. "What are we gunna do?"

"Timothée! Wait!" It was the voice of Claudie outside as she watched in dismay the dragon which she thought to be her brother swooping overhead.

"The huntsman!" cried LeFou snapping his fingers. "He shot you down once!"

"But they think it's me," said Timothée.

"Then c'mon!" shouted LeFou dragging him out of the cave as fast as he could. "Let's show 'em you're back to normal!"

Once outside LeFou saw Claudie and the huntsman almost at the entrance, and he called out to them. "Hey! Timothée's up here!"

Claudie did not quite hear what he brother said, and she looked up with exasperations at first, but both huntsman and girl saw Timothée at LeFou's side. With a gasp she lunged for Timothée and embraced him. But there was no time to explain or comfort.

"Who's that then!" demanded the huntsman turning to the dragon.

"Shoot it down!" gasped Timothée, thrusting a finger up towards it.

Barely had Timothée finished his phrase when the huntsman aimed and fired, but it was already too far away. The huntsman was far from daunted however, and he raced for the fallen log. Timothée chased after him, leaving Claudie and LeFou to hurry behind. The log cracked beneath the huntsman's weight, but he paid little heed. Timothée, unaware of the danger of the log (and it would not have stopped him even if he had known) leapt across too. It snapped in the middle this time, but the huntsman quickly caught the boy by the arm before he could fall into the river. Once steadied, they both were astride the huntsman's horse within seconds.

"What about us!" cried LeFou gasping for breath and still with his sister on the other side of the river.

"We'll just have to wait here!" Claudie declared. "They have to catch it!"

And with that the horse sped away.

"Come on!" said Claudie pulling a wide-eyed, rather useless LeFou with her. "I'll show you the other way to cross. Then you tell me what's going on!"

#

The horse meanwhile was headed in the direction to the castle. Celeste had not gone to look as others had. M. Humbert in another party, and a couple more, were out in the wood somewhere, but Celeste waited at the gate in case Timothée returned on his own. Dutifully she waited there, and some of the servants were with her. The dragon hesitated, for it could not destroy them without help, but after purposefully shrinking the dragon to a more agile size, it reached out its talons and snatched Celeste off of the ground and into the air.

Those on the ground gasped and shouted, but the dragon did not flinch.

Upon a hill the huntsman and Timothée could see the girl as she screamed in the dragon's clutches.

"Get ready to catch her," said the huntsman.

"What?" Timothée demanded in disbelief.

"Éclair is the fastest of the prince's horses," said the huntsman while he took his aim. "When I shoot down the dragon, we'll catch the girl."

Timothée did not like the idea, but it was too late to protest, for again the huntsman fired. As the arrow struck the neck, the dragon staggered and began to fall. Then flew Éclair with all haste and with that perfect timing, which both horse and rider knew well. There was no other choice in the matter; Timothée held out his hands, and readied himself for the sudden weight.

He caught poor Celeste just barely, causing both to tumble off of the horse. Their only fortune was that they tumbled into a heap of soft grasses along the horse's path.

Bruised, bumped, and even a little bloody, they did not look altogether too well from the fall, but it could not have gone better. As Celeste threw her arms around her fiancée, Timothée held her close and they kissed in silence.

The huntsman meanwhile was looking around for the dragon. Its shriek had been tremendous, and almost feminine in a queer and monstrous way. He did not like not seeing a body, but there was no sign of the dragon coming back for vengeance, only a faint trace of some odd dust floating around them which glinted almost like tiny fiery red sparks that never reached a full flash before touching the ground. The smell of smoke was almost stifling.

At last the huntsman had to figure that the dragon had disintegrated.

Then he turned to the boy and the girl, and he could not help but smile even if a little wryly at the pair as they spoke in hushed voices together on their couch of grass. He told them he was going to the castle, but he knew they were not listening. They were close enough to the castle that they would be safe.

While the huntsman made his way back to tell everyone that the dragon had gone, Celeste said to Timothée, "I thought that the dragon was you."

"It was in me, yes," said Timothée, "I didn't know it could separate from me either. But it was controlled by an enchantress now or was the enchantress or something like that. It doesn't matter now I suppose, except that good did come out of it."

"Good?" asked Celeste, and then she smiled. "Trials often do when they're overcome."

#

"You should get married here," said the prince to the soon-to-be couple now well and rested at the castle. "We'll make it the grandest wedding for you."

"Thank you, your majesty," said Timothée with a smile and a humble bow. "That's most gracious of you, but if it's alright, we would like very much to get married where we originally planned in the city where Celeste's family lives."

"Are you sure?" asked Prince Adam.

"I guess a usual wedding would be more meaningful after such unusual events," agreed Celeste.

"I understand," said the prince.

" _Pfft_ , someone might get married here," LeFou teased suddenly and most confidentially to his brother as he appeared at his side.

He tugged for Timothée to look and it was quite obvious how well Claudie and the huntsman were getting along seated together and talking like old friends.

Timothée smiled, but shooed him away.

Claudie and the huntsman were in fact rather reluctant to part with each other when it came time for the Humbert family, including the future Madame Humbert, to be on their way. But Claudie needed not fretted so. Wedding bells for a girl who thought she may never marry were not too far away for her.

They passed through the village and stopped for the night.

M. Humbert told the family that it may be time to start thinking about returning to their little town for good, especially how his two sons seemed eager to restart the blacksmith's place.

Next morning, as they discussed such plans over breakfast at the tavern, the only place to eat in town, LeFou suddenly excused himself and hurried out the door.

"What happening now?" asked Claudie.

Glancing out the window Timothée saw that the triplets and their mother were passing by …

"Lilou!" called LeFou.

Lilou turned around, as did Mme du Point and the other sisters.

"LeFou?" asked Lilou in surprise. She turned her mother. "I'll just be a minute."

The sisters eyed each other with confused glances, but her mother agreed and went on. Lisette and Laurette followed behind but did not dutifully keep up as they glanced behind their shoulders suspiciously and curiously.

"So! How's it going?" asked LeFou cheerily.

"Well, we just got the money from the castle to rebuild our house," said Lilou with a shrug. "Papa almost didn't want to accept it, you know. His independence and pride was hurt a little."

"Say that's swell," said LeFou swiping the air with his fist. "Uh! That you're getting your house back!" He laughed.

"Are you going to stay with your father then?"

"Actually, we were all thinking of coming back," said LeFou. Then he hesitated in a manner a little unusual for him, and Lilou stared hard as she wondered what was wrong.

"You _are_ feeling better, right?" she asked. "You're shoulder? Or collarbone, was it?"

"Oh, sure! I got the best treatment at the castle," said LeFou happily. "No treatment cures better than royal treatment." But he quickly lowered his voice then to say more seriously, "I was wondering, though." And he grinned toothily, a little nervously. "How would you like to marry me?"

Lilou was taken aback, and at first she was not sure she had heard him correctly.

"What?"

"Would you marry me," said LeFou again stronger and with more confidence. "And we'll live here."

" _Me_! Marry _LeFou_!" she gasped in horror.

But LeFou shook his head with closed eyes and waved his hands in front of him.

"No, no, no," he assured her. "Not LeFou." He grinned again and raised his brows up and down. "Guillaume Humbert!"

"Who's that!?" Lilou demanded.

LeFou made a face but cleared it up again as he held his hand boldly to his chest.

"Me, of course!" he said.

Lilou paused a moment, again studying him carefully.

"You mean, you're name isn't 'LeFou?'"

LeFou laughed. "No. You think the priest lets a guy get baptized with a name like that for a Christian name? C'mon, Lilou, I'm serious."

"You are?"

"Yes."

He did look serious now. Almost grim.

"… Madame Humbert, huh?" asked Lilou.

LeFou nodded.

"Well, I'll admit that even though I knew you my whole life, I never thought of marrying you," said Lilou crossing her arms. "Even if Gaston hadn't been there, I still never would have thought it. I don't know. I probably wouldn't even've _known_ you, really. But I mean you are kind of a weird little thing even if I did always think you were funny."

LeFou shrugged and only agreed; though he had not lost optimism yet. "I promise I'll make a good husband! I'll work hard! Get a house! Take care of you!"

"Calm down." With a smile she made a final examination of the little man in front of her then she said, "I'd love to marry you, Guillaume Humbert." And here Lilou kissed him on the cheek.

Guillaume smiled goofily.

Lisette and Laurette stared in wide-eyed and open jawed in disbelief and completely speechless.

They thought at once how revolting such a match was if not a marriage that certainly would end unhappily. Marrying LeFou was a mockery of the marriage one of them might have had in marrying Gaston, but Lilou on that night the dragon attacked her home had been given a chance to think about her life, especially on that hill where the dragon had left her and LeFou before the huntsman arrived to save them.

Almost getting killed and almost watching someone else get killed before one's eyes put things in perspective. She had come to an understanding of sorts about herself that Gaston had never really wanted to marry any three of the sisters. She did not yet know what Guillaume knew about him, but she had come to an acceptance that it was foolish to long to marry someone who he never wanted to marry her in the first place, and the poor man was dead besides. Of course she had not thought of marriage with LeFou (or rather Guillaume) until he brought it up himself, but it made sense somehow. It made more sense to her than anything had since Gaston's death.

Thus, in the end M. Armand Humbert retired a happy old man of three most contentedly married children. First Timothée married Celeste. His daughter Claudie married then the castle huntsman. And even Guillaume, who he thought would remain eternally a bachelor and a rather helpless character besides, married one of the most beautiful girls in town, had six or seven little boys and girls, and became a rather good blacksmith along with Timothée as his partner.

The only thing that stalled Guillaume's marriage was that it took some time for M. du Point to think about it. He had certainly hoped for better for his daughters, but Guillaume managed to prove himself. In fact, far later Lilou's marriage turned out the happiest out of the triplets. The other two had married solely for station, not even for looks, for no one in their minds could replace Gaston.

The bond between Guillaume and Lilou was inseparable. Guillaume's friendship with his family became strong. Oh, certainly he was still LeFou at times, but his natural loyalty was now placed where it belonged.

"And no one knows loyalty like Guillaume Humbert!" Timothée often teased, but he meant it more than most could guess.

FIN


End file.
